Guinevere
by Charlene Bates
Summary: Nancy gets in a predicament that turns out affecting her associates for years to come. A story with a bit of Nancy, Fagin, Bill Sikes, the Artful Dodger, and Charley. This story is dedicated to all my readers, most of all RedCherryFlowers.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the characters, story, etc. that inspired this "fan fiction". All the characters, except for Guinevere and any other additions, belong to Charles Dickens, who I am not and (regretfully, that is even though he is in the grave) will never be.**

**Introduction **

It was a cold, dark day. Rain poored, slanting across the streets. No one on the street could be seen except a homeless dog and a thin, fifteen year-old girl who staggered a little as she walked through the practically desolate streets towards the tired wreckage that a man by the name of Fagin called 'home'.

Finally reaching the door, she held up a thin and slightly bruised hand to nock at the warped door owned by the one man she could go to. She still couldn't hold back the thoughts that prodded at her mind saying things like '_Why do you think he'll help you?'_ and _'You won't be wanted by any of that lot now!'_. But she had to hold to the hope that this man, selfish as he was, would assist her in her time of need.

She was broken out of her thoughts by a rough reply to her nock, "Who is it?"

"Nancy."

**Okay, hope you like the intro. PLEASE REVIEW.**

**This is my FIRST fan-fic EVER! (outside of the stuff that goes on in my personal day-dream land) giggle :D**

**There is WAY MORE I have planned – and, might I add, some stuff that I am not sure where it is leading me to!**

**Please cut me a little slack (as this is my FIRST fan-fic)! But, please REVIEW!**

– **Charlene Bates**


	2. A Shocking Predicament

Chapter 2: A Shocking Predicament 

There was a moment that the man hesitated, looking around nervously. _Checking for Bill, no doubt_, Nancy thought.

"Come in, my dear," the old man said. He was now smiling, observing the fact that it was indeed Nancy and that she was accompanied by no one.

Nancy removed her bonnet, handed it to Fagin, and, after walking down the stairs, sat down in a wooden chair at the card/dining table.

Fagin now joined her after having recovered from the shock of her sudden appearance at this odd hour.

Nancy didn't seem too interested in breaking the silence, and, Fagin decided, must have something weighing heavily on her mind. He thought of making small talk, dismissed the idea as useless, and finally addressed the girl who now seemed to have lost interest in whatever she had come to say.

"Something you came here for, my dear?"

Nancy, finally realizing that she had been addressed, responded with a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

"Well, out with it, my dear. If you went to all the trouble of leaving Bill, I – " at the sound that name she gave a start. Fagin looked at her to find her eyes glaring at him before they crumbled and she began to sob uncontrollably.

"What's the matter, m'dear? You can tell me."

It took a moment for Nancy to get herself under control, but when she finally did, her voice betrayed little of the emotion that had passed the moment before.

"You have to promise me you won't tell Bill – not until I allow it, and don't count on it, Fagin. He won't be pleased if he hears. Though it is all his fault." The last words were little more than a whisper and were obviously spoken unconsciously.

As Fagin began to ponder the lastly spoken words, Nancy again burst into tears. Startled, for Nancy rarely showed such emotion, he 'comforted' her by patting her on the shoulder.

"There, there, my dear. Tell me what is wrong."

After a moment, she responded with some quietly spoken words that Fagin had to strain to hear.

He began to wish that he hadn't heard. Fagin couldn't believe his ears. _Pregnant? Nancy, PREGNANT?_


	3. Now What?

**Okay, here is chapter three. Hope you like it. : P**

**I did my best.**

**Chapter 3: Now what?**

Fagin thought for a moment. He felt like shouting out something like "_Are you sure_?" or "_How did this happen_?" but realized that while yelling such a thing would be relieving, he knew he did not want to hear the answer. Or rather he did not _need_ to hear the answer. So he decided on a more practical approach.

"Nancy, my dear, does Bill know?"

"No. I don't think he'll be pleased, Fagin. And besides, there is so much to think about without worrying about what Bill will say. Like what if it is a boy? Sure, Bill would treat him _plenty well_, but what kind of example is Bill for a child? And even worse, what if it's a girl. Do you know how he'd treat a _girl_, Fagin?"

Fagin, glad to see Nancy was becoming more reasonable again, thought about this for a moment, but before he could get a word out, Nancy continued on.

"Poor thing. He is nice enough to _me_. But what about a little, unwanted, attention-grabbing _girl_?"

"My dear, I understand your plight, but-"

"Oh, you do, do you?!!!" Nancy's shrieked comment startled Fagin, and he added another important fact to his "knowledge of women"; _never, ever say you understand a womanly plight_.

"Now, Nancy, my dear, do calm yourself. Be reasonable. Concentrate on the issue at hand. What are you going to do?"

At this thought Nancy went quiet. After thinking for a moment, she seemed satisfied enough with her decision to share it.

"I'm gonna tell Bill. And he is at least going to be pleased. And if he complains, I'll remind him _who_ should _really_ take the blame! Not that havin' a child is a bad thing and that someone's to be blamed for it!" she said all this with the defiance that only a woman can achieve, speaking with such power that it left Fagin quite mystified.

And with those last words, she got up, walked to the door, and after placing her bonnet defiantly on her head, she left.

"Well, my dear, good luck," Fagin said, even though she was already gone.

**Well, that is that. I know all my chapters are really, really short. I am new at this, remember? Well, I'll try to make up for this fault by posting really often. : )**

**Please REVIEW!!!!**


	4. Oh, Bill!

Hi everyone! Here is chapter four!!!! Before I get started though, I would like to thank Broken Amethyst for the wonderfully encouraging reviews: )

**Alright then, by now your probably wanting me to get to the story. Alright then, here goes:**

**Chapter 4: Oh, Bill!**

By the time Nancy reached "home" she was in a right state. She had the whole thing planned out in her head. _Everything_ she intended to say to Bill. That is, if Bill didn't screw her up or interupt her to much!

She opened the door and marched in. Bill was sitting in a chair, feet on the table, smoking a pipe. The moment he acknowledged the fact that she was there, Nancy began her speech.

"Bill, I want to talk to you," she only paused to make sure Bill was listening, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she plodded on. "There is something important going on, and it involves you and me!" Bill started to open his mouth, but she continued. " Now Bill, before you say anything I want you to listen to _me_! You know the that night two months ago… when you…when _we_…well, you remember it!"

Bill pondered what she said for a minute. Then, he began to smile.

Nancy, noticing that he understood what she was trying to say, decided it was prudent to go on before he got any ideas. If she waited to long, all hope of talking would be lost.

"Well, Bill, I am pregnant! That's right PREGNANT! And before you say anything at all, I think you should realize that we _both_ got ourselves in this _situation_. Besides, it is only out of the overflowing love between two people, that such a blessing – yes, blessing – is bestowed upon us! And Bill, I AM HAPPY ABOUT IT!"

After this exhausting and rather exhilirating exhortation, Nancy was left quite out of breath. The whole speech was not lost on Bill either. His silence was soon broken by some curse words, not uttered in anger, but in shock.

_Well, now you've done it!_ Nancy thought. _You bewildered the poor man! _She was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of pity and love for the man.

"Bill? Are you _happy_?" she asked tenitively. Before he could answer she stood up, walked over to the man, and gave him a kiss on the lips.

Bill was all the more lost for words now. _She does seem happy, though, don't she? _he thought. _Maybe I_ should _be happy._

With all these thoughts swirling around in his head, and Nancy staring at him admiringly, he decided on what to say.

"Now there is no doubt in my mind that it'll be a boy! A strapping young boy! Eh?"

Nancy couldn't be more pleased. _He's not angry. Not in the least bit._ She smiled to herself. _Maybe Bill will make a better father than I thought!_

**Well, hope it was good. Maybe you were looking forward to Bill getting angry. Sorry, but this is a young Bill, and I am inclined to think that their relationship may not have been **_**as**_** rocky in the beginning. Well, please REVIEW!!!**


	5. Things Get A Little Smokey

Hey everyone! First of all, I want to say thanks for all the reviews, advice, etc. I will TRY to take it all into consideration as I write this chapter (so many comments and so hard to remember them all. I do have them still in my email for referencing though). Please forgive me if I miss something. All right onto the good stuff!

Chapter 5: Things Get A Little Smokey 

The next morning, Nancy woke with a distinct feeling that life couldn't be better. She smiled and thought_, Another beautiful, rainy, cloudy day! Oh! Well, I MUST be going off my rocker!_ She laughed at herself and proceeded to make breakfast.

Bill was snoring loudly and muttering in his sleep. His unshaven face and horrible combination of morning and ale breath made him all the more unappealing. But Nancy didn't see or smell any of it. She beamed proudly and thought _What a catch!_

She was going to continue on with her cooking when she was caught off guard by a terribly powerful wave of nausea. _Ugh! Here we go again! Why does something so wonderful hafta have such bad side affects?_

Hearing Bill get up she tried to put on a brave and cheerful face. Another wave of nausea hit her, but luckily she was saved from showing her obvious "difficulties" with making breakfast. Bill's main intent seemed to be to take care of the morning "necessities". As he disappeared off to the privy, she sat down in a chair and held her now sweaty face in her hands. _Well this will be interesting. Bill won't be pleased if this "blessing" keeps you from cooking his breakfast. You can't go and make this look as bad as it is or he might just get cold feet and start hating the whole ordeal!_

While it was indeed a challenge, she put some eggs to cooking and began buttering the toast. _Maybe my body is just challenging me! This nausea doesn't seem to be anything more than a bad feelin'. Well, I won't give in!_

But just as she promised herself this, the smell of the eggs cooking wafted up to her nose. As Bill entered the room, Nancy ran out of it with all her speed. Bill turned around slowly to find Nancy slamming the privy door shut behind her He walked over and tried the knob._ Well, now what's with 'er today, anyway? Lockin' me out that way! And not a word of "Goodmornin' Bill"! She daren't act that way 'cept for the condition she is in! It's givin' her a lot of nerve! Well I'll tell her I will!_

A few moments later she appeared and walked over to the eggs quietly scooping them onto a plate and placing it in front of Bill. As she turned to get the toast, Bill grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"What was with 'at?"

Nancy smiled nervously. "What was with what, Bill? Do you want bacon with that? We have some that I go t'other day in the market."

"Don't 'void my questions, Nance! Now what was all that rush into the privy and lock me out business?!"

Nancy was silent for a moment. She new that she could not evade the question for long and if she tried it would only put Bill in more of a temper.

"Bill," she started, "I am sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I just thought that maybe you wouldn't want to be bothered 'bout how I feel t'day."

"Don't flatter me, woman! Now, tell me what's a' goin' on! That's all I want ta know!!!"

"Well, Bill, it's just a womanly plight. That's all. You needn't wander 'bout it. I…"

She was cut off by a yelled curse word from Bill. Amazingly, Bill – sleepy and hung over as he was – had noticed a fire that had started on the small stove and was quickly spreading.

Nancy, by now in action, was quickly trying to smother the fire.

Even though it was put out, the damage was done. Bill was not happy. _Well, now a woman should at least now how to perform proper house duties! She could 'ave set the whole place afire!_

"Nance! Now see what's happened! Don't know what you were thinkin'. You could a' set the whole place afire!!!"

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's just that…oh, well it won't happen 'gain I _promise_, Bill!"

And she quietly began to clean up the charred mess. _Amazin' what a hot pad on a burner can start!_

**And there is chapter 5! I hope you enjoyed it! Again, review, review, and oh, did I mention REVIEW!**


	6. What A Day!

Hi, it's me again and here with chapter 6! Read, review, and have fun – oh, and that IS Master Bates laughing at me in the background. He is probably laughing at you, too, for reading this story – though do ignore him and read on!

Chapter 6: What A Day!

It was October 24th and Nancy was doing the usual routine: cook breakfast, do laundry, argue with Bill, get excited, get nervous… the list went on and on. She still couldn't believe it! _Eight months I have been carrying this little one! Only one month to go and Bill and I will be full-fledged parents!_ While this thought brought her joy one moment, the next she would be wondering things like: _Are we responsible enough to take care of a child? Bill comes home drunk at least once every week!_ Even with all the worries, somehow she knew that everything would work out well in the long run.

Nancy couldn't be happier today! Although, her feet were cold. _Drat! I wish Bill were here! How am I supposed to get my shoes on, let alone the socks!_ Maybe if she scooted closer to the fire… _no, that's just asking to set yourself on fire!_ Well, she would deal. It's not like she hadn't been cold and alone before…_no, not alone. I am spending quality time with my little one._ Nonetheless, she was still cold and lonely. _I could visit Fagin. He wouldn't mind. Oh, but he'll be working!_ After dismissing the idea, she plodded on with her work and tried to not think.

A couple hours later Nancy was distracted from her work by a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" She called.

"Mike," was the only response.

_Who in this entire world is "Mike"?_ She got up, walked to the door, and opened it.

A man stared back at her. He was well dressed – not fancy, but simple, he looked clean and friendly.

Nancy hadn't a clue who he was.

"Hello," he said, "I am _Father Michael_." He smiled even wider as if he was trying to show ALL of his teeth for an inspection.

_So he's a _Father_ is he? Oh, what Bill will say if he hears that one of THEM has been around here! Well, I just won't tell him that's all! I'll just politely get rid of him! That is exactly what I'll do!_

"Hello. I am sorry, but I am afraid I have nothing to contribute to any charities you may be supporting. You might have better luck in a different neighborhood." She tried to close the door.

"Not so fast," he smiled, almost mockingly, and pushed his way in. "I just came to talk."

_Oh, one of THOSE! They make their "rounds", visit all the "low-lives", and try to tell them to go to change their ways!_

"Please do listen to what I have to say!" his response was hasty, but nonetheless genuine. Nancy nodded and he continued. "I just wanted to talk. I figure someone around here might be lonely. The streets – lovely as they are – look desolate and almost sad."

_He's quite poetic, isn't he? The streets, "lovely" – hah! Well, I would like to talk to someone. I just don't want to say too much._

She quickly decided on what to say. Fact is, it was all she ever thought about lately. "I am going to have a baby," she paused and added, "in around a month." He nodded. _What does he expect me to tell him anyway? Does he want me to confess all my sins? Well, THAT would take YEARS!_

Even though she didn't have a clue what to say at first, she soon found that she actually had a lot to say. They talked for HOURS. It seemed like minutes to Nancy. She was glad to have someone to talk to.

Nancy looked up at the clock. It read 5:38 p.m. _Bill will be home soon! I need to get rid of Father Michael before Bill sees him!_

Father Michael saw that she was looking at the clock, and – after all his experience – knew what that meant. "I am afraid I have to be going. I had a very good time, though."

Nancy was relieved; she would have hated to make him leave. "It was nice talking to you."

She led him to the door. "Goodbye, " he said. Nancy didn't know what to say. She watched him as he turned and walked off into the distance.

It wasn't long before Bill showed up. He walked in, stooped over from trying to avoid the rain.

"Hello, Bill!" she said.

"Well, cheerful are we." It wasn't even a question; it was just a statement.

_Thank goodness Bill isn't the "what did you do today" type!_

They had a quiet, uneventful dinner, and, after cleaning the dishes, Nancy headed to bed.

Hours later, she woke up with a small cry of pain. The pain passed quickly, and she looked over at Bill. _Whew! Good thing I didn't wake him! Sweet thing! He snores to loud to hear anything!_

Nancy lied back down. She was just beginning to fall asleep again when her body was wracked with pain again.

Finally, a thought crossed her, _Tonight? The baby's gonna be born TONIGHT?_

Well, there you have it! Chapter six! It's a little bit of a random, inbetween-er with a little twist at the end. Please review. I had a lot of difficulties deciding what to write for this chapter. So, REVIEW!


	7. It's Gonna Be A Long Night

Hello! I just realized that it has been a while since I thanked my sponsers! (Master Bates laughs and begins to choke on his ale) Here we go: Thanks firstly to my very own sister, Elaine Dawkins, who, as always, sparked my creative juices. Secondly, the two people who keep me going, Broken Amethyst and Protego Totalum! Thanks E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y!!!! And now a word from our sponsers: (dead silence except for Master Bates's commical laughter) And now on with the entertainment.

Chapter 7: It's Gonna Be A Long Night…

Nancy, realizing that at this late hour Bill would NOT enjoy having his sleep interrupted, heaved herself out of bed, and walked to the living room.

_Brrrrrr! It's cold in here!_ Nancy looked at the fireplace. _What?! No wood IN THE FIREPLACE?!!!! How am I supposed to lug over a log from the woodpile?! Oh, well. I guess I'll just have to try!_ She walked over to the woodpile, bent over, and tried to lift a log out. Another sharp pain went through her, clinging on for what seemed like eternity and causing her to drop the piece of wood.

A few moments later, she tried to move the wood again. _If I hold one end of the wood and kinda drag it…_ She tried this method, actually managing to get it all the way over to the fireplace. A particularly loud snore wafted into the room. _Silly Bill! Doesn't even know I'm awake!_

She groaned as another pain shot through her. _Well, why couldn't you wait! Practically a whole month early! I thought babies were supposed to be late!_

After she recovered from the latest pain, Nancy grabbed the log and practically threw it into the fireplace. _There! Now I'll be able to have a proper fire!_ She lit a match, threw it into the fireplace, and sat down on the couch.

_Now, if I could just get comfortable…_ she stifled a cry of pain and shifted into a lying position.

_This is going to be a loooonnnnngggggg night!_

------

Bill woke with a start. _Was that a scream? No, it was mor'of a yell…Wait a minute! Why would someone be yellin' anyway?_ He turned over and found that he collided with no one. _Where's Nance?!!_ He lay there for a moment – no more like a few minutes - before he put two and two together._ Nancy was the one that yelled?…_ Another yell wrent the air. It sounded slightly stifled.

------

Nancy was starting to worry. _If I don't find some way to shut myself up, I'll wake up Bill!_ Another yell erupted from her and she shoved her fist into her mouth. _Just breathe you numbskull! Pace yourself!_ Just then she heard a bed creak. _Oh! Well now you've done it! You've woken up Bill!_

------

Bill got out of the bed and walked to the doorway. Just as he suspected, there was a fire lit in the living room.

He was nervous. No, Bill _was scared_. What would he be able to do if he went in there? Should he just go back to bed? No, he'd never get back to sleep. He could say he was going for a snack…

"Bill?" Nancy questioned into the night. "Bill, are you up?" her voice was quiet, but plenty audible.

Bill was about to answer when she cried out in pain again.

Bill didn't know what to do. He could walk in, act his normal self, and rebuke her for waking him up…_ No, that won't do_… He could walk in and ask if she was alright… _Fool! "Course she ain't alright! Don't you have ANY brains?!_

Bill finally decided to just approach her. She would do the talking.

He walked forward, but just as he came into her sight, she let out another cry of pain. Bill was clueless as to what to do. He just stood there.

Nancy moaned and closed her eyes. "Bill," she said softly, "Bill, I am sorry I," she moaned again, "I'm sorry I woke you…I – didn't – mean – to! I – tried to be – quiet!" She gasped for air and yelled out in pain.

_Well, now she's really having a rough time of it, ain't she?!! I suppose I should do something… what should I do?_

He was saved from thinking too much. Nancy grabbed his hand and gripped it – no, she _crushed_ it. "Bill, you could – just – sit here – with me – if you – wanted."

_If he WANTED?! Who in the world would WANT TO?!_ But he knew he should. Bill settled down as best he could, and prepared himself for a loonnnnngggg night.

Okay! There you have it. The next installment! Read, review – there will be MORE in the next chapter! Love ya guys!


	8. And Baby Sikes Is Born

Thank you, reviewers! I loves ya! Elaine Dawkins, Broken Amethyst, and Protego Totalum, YOU GUYS ROCK!!! – Master Bates loves you, too, and he would be here to laugh at us all, but he's got a terrible head cold – poor dear! Now where were we?…

Chapter 8: And Baby Sikes is Born

Bill had been sitting for what seemed like hours, but looking up at the clock proved that it had been only twenty minutes. Was it ever going to end? All the yelling was getting to his head. Nancy no longer tried to contain the yells because that proved to be too exhausting. Bill couldn't voice his opinion openly, not even jokingly, for he knew THAT would be folly. _Women do odd things and get in bad tempers when they're in pain. She probably thinks that she can blame ME for most of this pain she's sufferin'! She's got nerve!_

Bill was broken from his thoughts from an extremely loud yell followed by a moan; both voiced by Nancy.

"Bill!" she gasped, "I think – we must be – almost – there!"

_  
Almost where?!! What is the poor girl tryin' to say?!! _

The yelling, gasping, and moaning were now going on almost nonstop. Bill was sure his hand would never work again after it got out of Nancy's death-grip.

"B-bill!" Nancy said mournfully, "I-I think," she gasped for air, "that – it's only – a matter – of – min-utes!" Nancy was beginning to think that the pain would NEVER end, even though her common sense told her it would – if not by her death – no, that made no sense! She wouldn't leave the poor child in Bill's hands! She pushed with all her might, hoping that it would all be over.

"Bill!" she said after a few gasps for air, "you – you need to – the baby's – gonna need – to – be…" she released her grip on his hand.

Bill finally catching on, got up stiffly, thought for a moment – _I can't believe – I can't – that's _– but he finally walked over to his "place of honor", ready as he could ever be, to receive the new addition to their home.

With a final loud yell followed by many gasps for air, it was over. Relief filled Nancy as she realized that it was _over._

_I'm finished! The pain is OVER!_ She felt triumphant. A new life was brought into the world!

_What 'im I supposed ta' do now?!_ were Bill's only thoughts. But he knew that Nancy would help him through this new experience.

----

Five minutes later, Bill filled with pride came into the living room where Nancy was sitting. He was carrying a small infant, newly cleaned, and wrapped in a blanket. He crouched down and speechlessly handed the small baby – their baby – to Nancy. They sat there for a few moments, and then Bill spoke up.

"It's a girl," he said in a horse whisper, "finest lookin' one I ever saw – 'cept you."

"Oh, Bill!" she gave him a kiss, and was hit with a thought. "Bill… we came up with all sorts of names for it if it 'twas a boy. What should we name 'er?"

A long moment of silence passed. Bill shook his head; clueless as to what name suited such a precious little girl.

"What about 'Elizabeth'?" Nancy suggested.

"Don't want her named after some silly old queen," Bill responded.

"You're right, Bill," she paused to think. "What about 'Guinevere'?"

**Alrighty peoples! There it was. But hang on! It's not over yet! Soon enough will be through with the introduction part of the story! Hahaha! Surprised you there! Well, I can't wait to write the next part! REVIEW!**


	9. A Day Out

**Hello! Thanks again to Broken Amethyst and Elaine Dawkins (also Protego Totalum, but she has not READ of REVIEWED recently – probably to busy!). Oh, and Master Bates is feeling a bit better and will be sitting in on this one – if he starts to laugh, it may set off a coughing fit, so don't be alarmed. Well then, on with chappy 9!**

**Chapter 9: A Day Out**

It had been a week and a half since Nancy had been out and, while her indoor life was pleasant enough, she was slowly going crazy.

"I _have_ to get out of here! I have been cooped-up in here for ten days!!! – Bill, did you hear me?! I said TEN DAYS!" her voice was mournful and strained. She wasn't angry – just a little exasperated, that's all.

"YES! I 'eard what you what you said – and too often, too!" Bill was tired of this argument. After all, he _knew_ he was right. "I still don't think Guinevere is ready! 'Sides it's too cold outside an' the smoke 'll do 'er no good!"

"Bill, pleeeaaassssse!!!!"

"No!" As he said this last word, he punctuated it by putting on his hat, and leaving for his day's 'work'.

_Grrrrr! This is so annoying! Can't Bill understand that I can't STAND it here ANY LONGER?!! I think he is being just a tad overprotective!_

Nancy walked over to Guinevere's crib – a 'new' item from one of Bill's latest break-ins.

She smiled down at Guinevere. "You want to go outside, don't you Guinevere?"

Guinevere just yawned causing Nancy to laugh.

"Well that settles it! We both think it's boring around here! Anyway, I still need to show you off to Fagin!"

With this decision made, she went into action; grabbing blankets, a toy bear (another of Bill's finds), and all the other necessities for a day out.

After Nancy readied Guinevere and put on her coat and hat, she grabbed the stuff and left. She was walking towards Fagin's when she noticed something. _Wait a minute, something's not right… Oh!_

Nancy ran back into the house.

"Sorry Guinevere!" And she picked her up, headed out the door, and began her walk to Fagin's again.

----

When they finally arrived at Fagin's, they were immediately welcomed in.

"Come in, my dear!" Fagin seemed to be in a relatively good mood. _Probably because Bill's not here,_ Nancy thought.

"_We_ decided to come visit," she indicated the little bundle that was Guinevere, "The house was so boring and I wanted you to see the newest 'addition' to the family."

Fagin eyes lit up as he thought of the child's future in pick pocketing. He could see it now!…

"Her name's Guinevere. Bill's way too overprotective already. I think…"

But it didn't matter what she said. The only words Fagin had heard were 'her' and 'Guinevere'. All his hopes of a future protegee that he could mold and shape to his will came crashing down on him.

"_Her_, my dear?" Fagin asked, his eyes buggy and glazed over.

"and he…" Nancy was broken off mid-sentence by Fagin's question. "Yes, _her_. _Her_ name is _Guinevere_. Fagin are you all right? You look kinda odd…"

"Oh, yes. I am _just fine_, m' dear… It's just that… well, I figured…" he trailed off as his mind whirled.

"You wanted it to be a _boy_, didn't you?! A boy who could work for you – benefit you!!!" Nancy was becoming angry. Why couldn't he just be happy for them?!! "You make me sick, Fagin!!!"

And with that, she strutted over to the door, opened it, and marched out into the cold. _I'm proud that the baby's a girl! Why does everything have to benefit HIM for him to be happy?!!_

As she strode through town, an elderly gentleman tipped his hat in greeting at her.

"SHE"S A GIRL AND I AM PROUD OF IT!" she shouted at him causing the man to jump back a little, and she strutted off towards home.

**Well, there you go! REVIEWS are accepted happily and EXPECTED!!! (Master Bates laughs and quickly begins coughing) Oh, and get well cards for poor Charley are welcome!**


	10. Happy Sixth!

**Hello reviewers!!! I would like to thank the usuals: Elaine Dawkins and Broken Amethyst, the busiest, but nonetheless encouraging: Protego Totalum, and the newbie: Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show for their WONDERFUL REVIEWS!!! (That is Master Bates laughing at the seemingly comical thought of me having "fans") Okay, so not exactly "fans", but "people who realize I exist". ANYWAY! Here is chapter ten – that's a two-digit number!!! Hurray!**

**Chapter 10: Happy Sixth!**

It was October 24th. _Tomorrow is the big day!_ she thought. She would be turning six years old _tomorrow_. Guinevere couldn't help but imagine how it would be. Images flashed through her mind; there would be a banner pinned up on the wall bearing the words "Happy Birthday, Guinny!" (Guinevere was too long a name to write on a banner), the smell of a pie baking in the oven wafting through the apartment, AND the best part – she would be taken out for her first outdoor lesson in pick pocketing. Guinevere smiled.

"Guinevere, honey, you need to go to sleep," her mother chided. Nancy was standing in the doorway. This was the third time that week that she had found Guinevere still awake when she should be sleeping.

"I am too excited to sleep! And 'sides, why can't I stay up late on the eve of my b'rthday?"

Nancy smiled grimly. They had been over this and over this. "Because little girls like you need sleep so they can grow up to be big girls. Now, the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner it will be your birthday."

"Why? Does the clock go faster when I sleep? Do the moon and the sun make their rounds faster then, too? Does the clock tell the sun and moon how fast to go, or do the sun and moon tell the clock how fast to go?"

Nancy sighed. _How is it that a girl of her age thinks up such questions?_ "Hon', the clock doesn't go any faster when you sleep, it'll just _seem_ that way. And the sun and the moon tell the clock how fast it should go." Nancy smiled. "Now, it is time for you to close your eyes and go to sleep!"

"Can you sing me _the song_, mommy?" Guinevere pleaded.

"Only if you promise to close your eyes and do your best to go to sleep!" she laughed.

Guinevere nodded and closed her eyes, so Nancy began to sing the song she had 'written' shortly after Guinevere was born.

And so Bill found them fifteen minutes later, Nancy singing and Guinevere with her eyes closed, breathing rhythmically.

Bill walked quietly in – he had perfected being quiet years ago, and now knew how to come and go through rooms without disturbing anyone sleeping.

"Nance," he whispered, "she's asleep yer know."

Nancy nodded. She stood up and walked out the door, closely followed by Bill.

"I been whatchin' yer. She's been asleep for over ten minutes."

"I know. It's just I was thinking, Bill," she paused. Bill nodded encouragingly, and she continued. "She'll be six tomorrow. I just can't get over it – and I am not sure I want to," she added the last part softly.

"Yer shouldn't think on such things. Yer cant' stop a youngun's growth – don't think I 'aven't tried – thinkin' 'bout such thing's 'll drive yer crazy!"

"I know, Bill. I just can't help it."

Bill nodded.

----

The next day found them all sooner than they expected. Nancy got up early, to begin on the special breakfast she had planned. Bill, realizing how soon the birthday girl would be awake, waited patiently for her to jump on the bed and yell "Good mornin', Daddy!" - this was their ritual ever since she turned three.

As expected, about two minutes later Guinevere came charging in, jumped on the 'sleeping' Bill, and shouted, "Good mornin', Daddy!"

Bill feigned impartiality, and rolled over pretending to go back to sleep. Just as Guinevere was about to poke him – to see if he was still alive, Bill rolled back over and suddenly began tickling her.

----

Nancy was just flipping the flapjacks when she heard the enormous amount of giggles erupting from the bedroom.

She wandered to the bedroom doorway and peeked in. Catching Bill's eye, she crept up behind Guinevere, and assisted Bill in 'the attack'.

After half a minute, Nancy spoke up, "All right, I think we best stop, Bill! If I am right – and I know I am – this little girl has not taken care of a VERY important mornin' necessity that is NOT to be overlooked when it comes to ticklin'!" With that she shooed Guinevere into the bathroom, and went back to her flapjacks.

Soon, Nancy had everything set on the table; plates, silverware, glasses, ham, flapjacks, butter, and syrup – a special treat.

"Breakfast is ready!" she announced. Two shapes emerged, one from the bedroom and the other from the privy. They all sat down, and noisily began to scarf down the 'special meal'.

----

Guinevere impatiently watched the clock. It was still a whole half-hour until she was to be taken out to learn pick pocketing. She had practiced it around the house and she was very good at it. Even Fagin had to admit to this after one time when Guinevere had succeeded in stealing a number of valuables from him during a five-minute visit.

There were now twenty-eight minutes left. When would she finally get to begin?

**Well, there it is! Oh, and by the way, Bill is the same old "Bill" for everyone else. Most people will agree that – at least on birthdays – family life is different from work life. REVIEW PLEASE!!!**


	11. You've Got To Pick A Pocket

**Hello, reviewers – you know who you are! Here is the next installment; chapter eleven! Hope you like it!**

**Chapter 11: You've Got To Pick A Pocket…**

Guinevere was still sitting by the clock when there was a knock at the door.

"Who's it?" she yelled, not even bothering to get up.

"Just an old friend, m' dear," came the reply.

Excitement shot through her. Her rescuer had come! Guinevere got up, ran to the door, and opened it. She then pushed Fagin further outside and slammed the door shut behind them.

"M' dear," Fagin spoke up, "shouldn't you let Nancy know that I have arrived and that we are leaving?"

"She was 'spectin' you anyways. When she notices I am not there, she'll know where I've gone."

_Sometimes I think that girl is a bit too sure of herself. _With this thought, Fagin opened the door, and spoke so that his voice carried, "I'm here and am taking the child for her 'lesson'!"

There was a yell back from Nancy. _Did she say "All right"? Probably_, Fagin decided.

There was not much time to think about it anyway. Guinevere had grabbed Fagin's hand and was practically pulling him to town.

"All right, my dear. You'll have to harness some of that excitement. This is _business_, after all."

Guinevere nodded and let go of the man's hand. She quickly took on an innocent look and acted as though _nothing_ was more boring than what they were about to do.

Fagin nodded in approval at the obvious control the girl had over her emotions and demeanor. They walked lazily through the alleys, and eventually came to town. Guinevere's excitement almost got the better of her and for a moment, Fagin noticed, she fidgeted and was obviously – much too obviously – looking for a good first 'catch'. Fagin started to comment, but she played her part well, stopping him before the words reached his lips.

"Why do we have to go to market, grandfather?" she put on an innocent and bored look, but her eyes were actually scanning the crowds' purses, pockets, and bags.

Fagin was beginning to wonder whether he was actually needed. _The girl already seems to know what to do – of course she HAS observed me before…but she does seem to have a lot of natural skill. Until her, I never really thought there could be a very good GIRL pick pocket – ah, but I shouldn't get ahead of myself; she must still prove herself._

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts; Guinevere was absent-mindedly waving a pocket watch and wallet under his nose.

"M' dear! Did you already get that?" he asked rather surprised, but he caught himself and added, "Not _too_ bad for someone as new to street work as you."

Guinevere smiled. She had seen the gleam of wonder and pride in his eyes. She _knew_ he was impressed.

"Grandfather," she had walked over to a fruit stand and picked up an apple, "these apples are much too soft. Not a very good buy – they should be given 'em out for free." As she said this, she slipped a couple into the recesses of her bag. Fagin smiled knowingly. He was beginning to wonder whether she hadn't snuck-in a little practice before. This was going to be an _easy_ day.

----

They arrived back triumphantly. The day couldn't have gone better. And to add to all that, there was obviously a birthday pie in the oven.

Nancy wandered to the entryway when she heard the door open. "Hello there! What have we here? Could it be two successful businesspersons, hungry from a day of hard work?"

"Momma, you should see what I got!" she announced. Fagin cleared his throat. "I mean what WE got!" She sent an exasperated look at Fagin then she began to go through all the things 'they' had stolen. There was jewelry, money, leather wallets, silk gloves, handkerchiefs, and food.

"We got SO MUCH that Fagin had to carry most of it!" she indicated his roomy overcoat with all its hidden pockets.

"Sounds like a wonderful first day!" Nancy commented. "So how about a nice dinner to finish it off?"

"I think that a PIE would be a good way to finish it off!" Guinevere announced. She bounced over to the oven and tried to peer in at the contents.

"Guinevere, away from the oven! You could burn yourself!" Nancy was about to remove her prying fingers from the oven door, when Bill came in and picked Guinevere up from behind.

"Daddy!" Guinevere shouted with excitement. "Wait 'll you see what I brought back!" As soon as Bill put her down, she ran over to her bag and began to show her treasures off.

Nancy turned her attention over to Fagin who had been watching the goings-on quietly. "You will be staying for dinner, won't you?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, my dear. I wouldn't miss the girl's birthday dinner." – _and_ _I deserve it after taking her around town all day._

----

The day ended quickly – for Guinevere at least. Bill, Nancy, and Fagin were still discussing the finer points of pick pocketing and housebreaking, when Fagin noticed something.

"The girl's fallen asleep," he pointed at Guinevere whose face was rested on her well-licked plate. "I suppose I best be on my way. Tomorrow will come sooner than wanted, and so will expenses."

"Ah, but so will pockets needing to be picked," added Nancy. They all laughed at this.

At the sudden outburst, Guinevere lifted her head sleepily, and gave a look that said, 'The next person who interrupts my sleep won't have a finger to pick pocket with!'

Fagin, realizing the danger in laughing again, got up, said his good-byes, and was on his way.

**Time for me to go listen to Fagin sing "You've Got to Pick a Pocket" from Oliver! I love itunes! REVIEW PLEASE!!!**


	12. Outta My Pocket!

Hello!!! Master Bates and I are here to entertain you! (Dead silence and then Charley bursts out laughing) ANYWAY, here is chapter twelve! Enjoy!

**Chapter 12: Outta My Pocket!**

It was November twenty-first, and Guinevere had finally recovered from the excitement of turning thirteen (though the thought did cross her mind occasionally, sometimes causing her to squeal with delight). It was an ordinary day. She was doing the usual; walk through town, look for good pockets, and 'pick' the good ones. The only problem was that it was a slow day – no, slow week… no, slow _month_! There _were_ no good pockets! They were non-existent! Even her Daddy's business was not going well. Actually, all businesses in London seemed to have gone into a slump!

Guinevere sighed and walked through the slightly crowded streets. Her eyes lighted on an old lady studying a loaf of bread. Quietly walking up behind her, Guinevere reached over to her bag, opened the clasp silently, and slid her hand inside. Feeling its contents in her fingers' grip, she slid the contents from the lady's bag and into her own. Smiling to herself, she walked off a ways and looked through the contents. _Wipe, a pair of earrings – darn, one of 'em's broken, a wallet – this could be good!, and MONEY!!!_ She smiled widely. _Money_, THAT was something they could use! Putting the oddments back into her purse, Guinevere searched the crowd for more. Her stomach growled. _Darn! I wish I could buy a decent lunch! Maybe if I find another good pocket…_ Suddenly, she saw a boy. He probably didn't have anything good, but she was desperate! The boy was leaning against a wall watching the people. _Wish I were 'im! He probably has all the time in the world, and I'm out here WORKING!_

She sauntered casually over to him and pretended to be admiring some jewelry in the window next to him. Slowly she let her hand move towards his pocket. He turned to stare in another direction causing her to almost whack her hand against his. She let out a small sigh of relief after the scare. Guinevere moved her hand towards his pocket again. _I suppose I must look really desperate for the jewelry in the window!_ She almost laughed aloud, barely catching herself before she did. Her hand slipped into his coat pocket and, to her surprise, she felt all sorts of treasures. _What is a boy his age doing with all THIS in 'is pocket?!!_ She lifted some of the things out; there was a pearl necklace, three handkerchiefs, money… but just as she was looking at the stuff, her stomach growled. The boy turned to find her hand full of some of HIS possessions!

They locked eyes. The boy grabbed her arm and pulled her down an alleyway. He turned to face her. "What are you doing with my stuff?" he asked. He looked angry, but also seemed a little scared, so Guinevere decided to use it to benefit her.

"Well, what are YOU doing with stuff like _that_?!!" she asked coolly.

"That's not your business, but it is MY business to ask what YOUR 'and was doin' in MY pocket!" He drew himself up to his full height. Without the hat he was probably a good five inches taller than she was. _What'll I do now?!!_ she thought. _I suppose I could try to work my feminine ways on 'im. After all, I am THIRTEEN! A WOMAN!_

Guinevere looked up – pretty far up – into his eyes and smiled innocently, fluttering her eyelashes._ I hope this works!_

_She's a darn pretty thing, ain't she?_ he thought. He couldn't help but admire her dark brown eyes – _chocolate_, he decided to call them – and her pretty wavy hair. _No, 'er 'and was in my pocket! 'Course my 'and 'as been in everyone else's pocket all day!_

The boy dazed for a minute and then, catching himself, he rolled his eyes and looked degradingly back down at her.

Guinevere smiled nervously, then gave up the show. "Look," she began, "we're both obviously doin' somethin' we don't want the other to find out about, so…"

"What do ya mean?" the boy cut in. "I ain't done nothin' wrong!" And with that he crossed his arms and focused defiantly on something to his right.

"Well, you don't seem to want everyone to know that you're a _pickpocket_!" _Ha!_ she thought. _That'll teach 'im!_

"What – I am not – I never – why do ya think…" He finally settled on something, "How did ya know?"

"It is easy for one pickpocket to identify another," at this she smiled first wickedly and then it turned into a genuine smile.

The boy still looked flabbergasted.

"I'm Guinevere," she introduced herself and stuck out her hand.

The boy looked confused for a minute, but then calmed. He seemed to return to a well-practiced and often used business-like manner. "I'm Jack," he said and reached out and took her hand. But Jack did something that surprised her; he didn't _shake_ her hand, but turned it so that he could _kiss_ the back of it.

Guinevere blushed. _I never met such a gentleman!_

**Hahaha!!! Well, hope you liked it. I hope I'm not rushing through the story TOO FAST! This part was one of my ORIGINAL inspirations for the WHOLE thing! Well, REVIEW!!!**


	13. A Walk Home And A Deal

Hello! Its me with chapter thirteen!!! YAAAAYYY!!!! (yes, Master Bates is laughing at my excitement!) Anyway, I know I said I wouldn't post on weekends, but I can't help it! All right, here it is, and again, please REVIEW!!!

**Chapter 13: A Walk "Home" And A Deal**

There was an awkward moment in which Jack and Guinevere stared at their surroundings, not knowing what was to happen next. Finally Guinevere broke the silence, "So, do ya live 'round here?"

Jack nodded.

"Where? I mean, I haven't never seen you 'round here before."

Jack nodded again and spoke up, "I live around a street near here," he paused figuring that Guinevere would say something constructive, but she actually seemed to be waiting for something, "You wanna see it?" he asked after an over-long silence.

Guinevere nodded excitedly. She wanted to know more about him. _As successful as he is, _she thought, _he probably lives in an apartment! Lucky boy! I sure would like my own apartment._

Jack, she realized, was leading her down an area that she rarely visited. She noticed a pub that she was sure her daddy went to occasionally – at least once a week for a 'good time with "the boys"'. She was looking for a nice apartment when Jack stopped.

"What are you stopping 'ere for?" Guinevere asked. There was nothing remotely like an apartment. In fact, he had led her _between_ some apartments where there was an alley for garbage cans.

"This is where I live," he said quietly.

Guinevere twitched nervously. _He don't look too pleased to be showin' me it. I suppose it is a bit embarrassing… What should I say to him?_

"Well, I suppose it is quite protected from the rain!" she said cheerfully, pointing to an overhanging roof.

Jack nodded, staring at a garbage can.

"I know an old gentleman, he's in the same line 'o work as you an' me… he might give you a place to stay – if you worked for him." Guinevere was pleased with herself._ Fagin will be happy when he realizes the benefits in this! He could make money off o' Jack, and Jack would 'ave a place to stay!_

Jack's face lit up a bit at the thought. _A place to stay – like a 'ouse?_ "Alright, suppose I come talk to the man – I wanna find out my benefits before I agree to the proposition."

"Well, I could take you to 'is 'ouse, that is, if you're willin' to come…"

Jack nodded.

Guinevere began to lead him in the direction of Fagin's. "So… how long you been in the business?" she asked. She didn't really care, but she was making an attempt at conversation; awkward silences are a bad thing after all.

"A month," he said. "And you?"

Guinevere was surprised. _A month? That's it? Even I'm not as good as 'im an' I been doin' it for 'alf my life! _"I been doin' it for seven years. How did you get so good?"

Jack smiled at the somewhat-hidden complement. "I been takin' small things I've wanted ever since I was little. If someone didn't buy it for me, or give it to me, I'd take it when they weren't lookin'."

"I did similar things, too," Guinevere commented. "There's 'is 'ouse!" she announced.

They walked up the steps, and Guinevere knocked on the door. In a few moments, they heard footsteps and an old gentleman's voice asking, "Who is it?"

"Guinevere – and a prospective business investment," she answered.

The old man opened the door curiously. "Ah, hello, my dear!" he said to Guinevere and led them in. Fagin and Guinevere began walking upstairs, so Jack followed.

When they reached the top, they all sat down around a table. Fagin smiled encouragingly. Guinevere nudged Jack. _What does she want me to do? Guess I'll introduce myself._ He decided a clear direct way was the best. "My name's Jack and I was told you might 'ave a job for me."

Fagin looked at Guinevere and she nodded. "All right, Jack, my dear, what can you do?"

"I know 'ow to pick pockets pretty good." As he said this, he reached inside his pockets and pulled out some of the treasures he had gotten that morning.

Fagin's eyes lit up with excitement and greed. "My dear, did you get all this _today_?"

"Yes," Jack answered casually; he didn't want to appear eager-to-please. This was a business deal, after all, and he was _not _a _child_. "I've 'ad better days."

Fagin turned to Guinevere, "My dear, could I have a word with you?" She nodded, and they walked off to a remote corner of the room. They had a quick, whispered discussion ending in a nod from the old gentleman, and they sat back down at the table.

"All right, my dear, you have a deal. If you pick pockets and bring back the loot, you will get food, a bed, and some money."

"'Ow much money?" he asked.

"Whatever your items earn minus the cost of keeping you and a small amount of profit for me."

"Deal," Jack said and they shook on it.

Aaahhh! Nice to have "Jack" where he should be, huh? Well stick around 'cause there's more coming! And don't forget to REVIEW!!!


	14. A Piece 'O The Pie

**Hello! Again, let me thank my sponsors (you guys are awesome!): Broken Amethyst (a wonderfully dedicated and encouraging sponsor), Elaine Dawkins (a wonderful sister and sponsor), Protego Totalum (a sponsor who never fails to make me feel good), Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show (a lovely sponsor with a great sense of humor), and Roxy1613 (a new sponsor who has made me get warm fuzzies – uh-oh!). Thanks all of you! Oh, and thanks to Master Bates (a reviewer in my head and heart) who requires more attention than is good for him!**

**Anyway, it's CHAPTER FOURTEEN!!!!! (Yes, Master Bates and I are doing our happy dance!)**

**Chapter 14: A Piece 'O The "Pie"**

Guinevere, seeing that the business deal was a success, excused herself and began the journey home. She couldn't stop thinking about what a success her whole plan had been! She would even benefit from it! Guinevere soon found herself replaying her whispered conversation with the old Jew in her head…

"_Well, what do ya think?" Guinevere asked coolly even though she already could tell that he was impressed._

"_Ah, my dear, he does seem to be a prime candidate for moneymaking."_

"_So… you'll keep 'im?" she asked carefully._

"_Well, my dear, at least long enough to see if he proves dedicated and profitable – in which case I will be more than happy to keep him."_

"_Well, you __can__ keep 'im on one condition…" Guinevere smiled a smile that almost matched the Jew's greedy one._

"_What, my dear?! What do you mean?" He was beginning to wonder whether one of his less desirable behaviors might have rubbed off on her- no, it could have come from Bill._

"_I just mean that I brought 'im 'ere and I wanna bit o' the profit that's all!" she said defiantly._

_The Jew began to protest, but stopped himself; he knew that arguing might lose him more of his profit. "All right, my dear. I shall give you a bit of the profits." He sighed._

"'_Ow much?" Guinevere was suspicious._

"_A fifth of it. That should be enou-"_

"_A fifth? I wanna third! There are three of us – Jack, you, and me – we should each get an equal bit o' profit! It makes sense!"_

"_All right, my dear." He knew he wasn't going to win this one. Guinevere had the defiance of Nancy and Bill combined! He also didn't want to create a scene in front of the boy; it wouldn't exactly make Jack want to work for him._

"_Oh, and don't mention me in your offer to Jack – I don't want 'im to think I'm only in it for the money!" Guinevere added._

"_But aren't you, my dear?"_

"_No way! I like to see a nice feller like 'im get a good 'ome and a job – not that this IS his best option…"_

"_All right, all right! It's a deal." He turned to go back to Jack, but Guinevere stopped him._

"_Not a word, Fagin!" she warned._

_Fagin nodded._

…Guinevere was quite pleased with the way she had handled it. A third of the profits would be all hers… _Darn! Home already! Ah well, Daddy and Momma will be pleased when I tell 'em about my business deal – but should I tell 'em? Would they make me give it back? Prob'ly. I won't tell 'em then!_

Guinevere strutted up the steps and inside. Nancy was sewing up a hole in one of Bill's large coats. All Guinevere had to do was act natural and keep her third of the profits. A smile leaked onto her face.

Nancy had looked up just in time to see the smile. "Have a good day?"

"Oh, yes. Well, 'no' business-wise, but 'yes' enjoyment-wise." She was definitely going to keep it a secret.

"Well, things _have_ been hard recently. Did you get _anything_ today?" Nancy hated to be so focused on her daughter's work, but they needed every little bit they could get.

"I did get some money – not much, but still it is money, a pair o' earrings – one of which is broken, a handkerchief, and a wallet which the money was in."

"Don't sound to bad. Anyway, anything we can get right now is a blessing." Nancy smiled.

I know she don't mean to do it, but she's makin' me awful guilty… 

"What's for dinner?" Guinevere tried to change the subject.

"Well, Bill's not gonna be here – he's got a 'meeting' – so, it's a 'girl's night'- dinner's your pick!"

'Girl's night', 'dinner's your pick!' why does she 'ave to punish me with this kindness! I wish I could go ta' bed with no dinner. Guinevere felt terrible keeping the deal a secret, but she kept reminding herself of all the things she could have – that is, if she could hide them. It wouldn't look too good if she had the appearance of a well to do Englishwoman while her parents looked like tramps! They'd find out if she was obvious about it. 

"Hon'?" Nancy looked at her curiously, "You daydreaming?"

"No – I mean, yes. I was just thinking about how good some potato soup sounds."

"Ah, well that's good! We can afford that!" Nancy commented. "You want to help me peel the potatoes?"

"Sure," Guinevere answered.

As they peeled potatoes, Guinevere told her tale of finding Jack and bringing him to Fagin's. Nancy was impressed with how Guinevere had put aside work to help the boy, and decided to make a small pie to celebrate. _Another knife o' kindness in my heart!_ Guinevere thought. _Maybe I should tell 'er… no, not yet._

**Whooohooo!!!! Another chapter!!!! Well, please REVIEW!!!!**


	15. What's In A Name?

**WHOOHOO!!!! CHAPTER FIFTEEN HAS ARRIVED!!! Thanks, as usual, to all my lovely sponsors!!!! This one's short- sorry! So, Master Bates and I will now present…**

**Chapter 15: What's In A Name?**

"Still don't see why I should change m' name," Jack muttered.

"It's very simple, my dear," Fagin had been over and over this with the boy, "it is _preferable_ to be known by something _other_ than your real name in case the traps get wind of you. That way…"

"What are traps 'gin?" Jack interjected.

"Traps," Fagin sighted, "are _policemen_! The ENEMY!" Fagin sighed again. _Jack's a wonder of a pickpocket, but he sure doesn't know much about the prevention of getting caught!_

Jack's cheeks flushed crimson as he said with as much dignity as he could now muster, "I know _police_ – _traps_ – _whatever_ are the enemy!"

Fagin just nodded.

"Why don't I go by "my dear" seein' as how that seems to be the title by which you choose to refer to me," this comment was said jokingly, but he was still worried that the Jew might have taken it wrong. "I'll be off to work then," he said quickly. Putting on his hat, he headed out the door.

Fagin just sat there shaking his head slowly. _I hope the boy learns quickly!_

----

Jack made his way to town. As he went, he thought about what Fagin had said.

_I sure 'ope he don't think I'm a fool! I'll prove myself to 'im! I'm gonna learn ALL the terms he uses and more! Then he'll no longer be able to confuse me – oh I'll show 'im!_

Jack had arrived in town, and he quickly began doing what he did best.

He was on his fourth pocket for the day when he noticed that a policeman – _"Trap!"_ he reminded himself – was staring directly at him! Jack started to wonder how long he had been staring, but suddenly remembered to disguise what he had been doing!

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said to the lady whose pocketbook he had been picking, "Your pocketbook 'as been open and your 'andkerchief fell onto the ground – I do 'ope the pickpockets 'aven't been at it!" He tried to put on a concerned look.

"Thank you!" exclaimed the lady as she began to look through her pocketbook to make sure everything was there, "You kind young gentleman! Here's a one-pound note for you!" she smiled pleasantly as she retrieved the money and gave it to the shocked boy. "Thank you so much!" she beamed at him and turned to continue her shopping.

Jack turned and sighed when he noticed the "trap" was gone.

Deciding to move on to another part of town after the scare, he turned to his left. He nearly yelled, but stifled it by shoving his hand over his mouth.

"'Ello!" Guinevere said and smiled. She motioned for him to follow her down a less busy street. "That was a close call, wasn't it?"

Jack nodded. "I'd no idea there was a trap observin'!"

"You avoided it very well, though!" Guinevere commented, "It was really quite an artful-dodge!" She beamed at him.

"Artful-dodge, eh?" Jack thought for a moment. "Hey, that's it!"

"What's it?" Guinevere looked confused.

"That's what I'll be called- 'The Artful Dodger'!"

"Pretty impressive name!" Guinevere commented.

"It matches my impressive skill!" the Artful Dodger gave his hat a cock and proceeded to walk down the street. Guinevere just shook her head and smiled, _Boys!_

**Well, there you go! Numerous stories have been written (I am sure) about Jack's famous "title", so I added to the stash! More story-related stuff coming! I just had to get him his special "name", though – it was driving me crazy not being able to refer to him as 'the Artful Dodger"! Please keep reading! And REVIEW!!!! Thanks!**


	16. Picking Pockets  It's A Group Activity

**Okay, now back to the story at hand – at least, I think… So, I never really have a clue what to write when I am in front of a blank "sheet of paper" (on my computer), but here goes!**

**Oh! And again, thanks to Elaine Dawkins, Broken Amethyst, Protego Totalum, Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show, and Roxy1613! Did I miss anybody? I feel like I did. Oh, well, on with the show!**

**Chapter 16: Picking Pockets - It's A Group Activity**

Upon agreeing to work together until lunch, Guinevere and the Artful Dodger proceeded to walk through town and pick pockets. They were actually doing pretty well together, perhaps even better than when working solo. The Dodger, however, found absolutely no reason to think that they worked any better together than apart. Guinevere agreed – though neither voiced their opinions. They continued to work together until lunch because each thought the other was enjoying the company.

Finally, it struck the twelfth hour and each headed their separate ways; Guinevere to Bill and Nancy's and Dodger to Fagin's.

When Dodger arrived at Fagin's, he walked right in. The old Jew, who had been looking through a box of what looked like all sorts of jewelry, jumped and shoved the box into a cabinet. He turned to smile, as warmly as possible, at Jack, who returned the attention with a nod.

"How were things this morning, my dear?" Fagin asked as he stirred something in a pot on the fire.

"Good. Guinevere an' I worked together part o' the time," Jack looked nonplused. "She's nice enough, but she can be a bit…" he searched for the right word.

"Annoying?" Fagin tried. Jack shook his head. "Show-offy?" Jack shook his head again. "Over-excited?" Jack finally nodded.

"Yeah, I reckon that's what it is. She's over-excited; seems more interested in talk than work, or, even worse, doing both at once."

"Ah, but, my dear, she has been doing it for longer than you. Even the best jobs become tiresome." Fagin pointed out.

"Oh, but she _did_ give me an idea for m' "name"… The Artful Dodger." Jack paused for effect and, having lit his pipe a moment before, blew out some smoke to further enhance the mood he was effectively setting.

"Ah, my dear, it is a very nice name. Has a good ring to it and suits you well." Fagin put a bowl of soup and a mug of ale in front of the Artful Dodger. The Dodger, trying the soup and finding it to be too hot, took a sip of ale. _This is the life_, he though while still managing to look nonchalant.

"My dear, wouldn't you like to empty your pockets of what you've gotten so far today? In case you forget to later," he added the last part so as not to seem so prying.

The Dodger finished his sip of ale slowly, licked his lips, and blew on a spoonful of soup before answering. "I didn't bring an'thing back."

"I thought you said you had a good day!" Fagin was trying to remain calm, but the Dodger's comment shocked him.

The Dodger just nodded; meaning to intimate that he had indeed had a good day.

"Well, then where's the stuff you got?" He was relatively sure that the Dodger considered a business-productive day to be a "good day".

"Gave it to Guinevere." The Dodger's voice was slightly muffled.

"What?" _Did I hear him right?_

"Gave it to Guinevere," the Dodger repeated. When the Jew looked a little crazy and nodded, Jack continued, "'Er family's 'avin' difficulties, and I figured if I can get that much in the morning, well, then I can get that much in the afternoon – if not more."

Fagin was still very shocked. "Don't you think that perhaps… maybe… well, I – I mean, _we_ might need it just as much?"

The Artful Dodger looked about the room, took a lofty sip of the ale, a puff of his pipe, and said, "_We_ don't seem to be doin' so bad. Anyways, Guinevere said that since her father works "with" you, what affects _'is_ business affects _your's_." Jack took another sip of his ale and looked at Fagin to see what effect his comments had had on him. Noticing that Fagin seemed to have gone into a thoughtful mode, the Dodger got up, excused himself and headed back to work.

----

It was getting colder and wetter as the day progressed. The Dodger drew out his pocket watch and looked at it. _4:14 P.M.? That's it?_ The afternoon was dragging, even though there were plenty of pockets to pick. The Dodger, sighting another "easy pocket", worked his way over next to the gentleman and pretended to be admiring a painting that a painter, rather unsuccessfully, was trying to paint as it drizzled.

He worked his hand left and down, finding the pocket. As he inserted his hand, he felt something odd… something warm… something… human?!! It was someone else's hand! Shocked, the Dodger looked up to find himself staring into the eyes of someone else who was also trying the pocket. Both pickpockets, realizing that they would get caught if either said the slightest thing, pulled their hands out and backed down an alley. Both looked bewilderedly at each other until they were out of sight and earshot of others, at which point the both spoke at the same time.

"What was your 'and doin' in 'is pocket?!" said the Dodger, while the other pickpocket said, "Well now that was a coincidence!"

After these exclamations, the Dodger frowned thoughtfully and the other boy, thinking about the situation and the look on the Dodger's face, burst out laughing.

"What's the matter with you?!" the Dodger exclaimed.

The other pickpocket gasped for breath, giggled, and finally found his voice, "The whole situation! Oh, WHAT A SPREE!!!" The boy burst out laughing uncontrollably again. Once he finally gained control of himself, he spoke, "The names Charley!" and he stuck out his hand to shake before bursting into laughter again.

**WEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! YAAAAAAYY!!!!!! Okay, I'm a little calmer now. There's chapter SIXTEEN for you!! Please read & review!**


	17. Friends and Friendliness

**Whoohoo!!! Chapter SEVENTEEN!!!!!! Boy, I could fly around the world with this excitement! Anyway, I would once again like to say thanks to my wonderful reviewers! Here we go: thanks to Elaine Dawkins, Broken Amethyst, Protego Totalum, Roxy1613, Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show, ASGT and Kat Maximoff (new reviewer****s**** – YAAAYY!!), and Longtail's Loyalty (another new reviewer – YAAAYY!!)! Thanks all you guys!!! Oh, and the second part of this chapter is for Broken Amethyst in particular.**

**Chapter 17: Friends and "Friendliness"**

The Dodger and Charlie made their way through the labyrinth of alleys headed straight for Fagin's. While the two had originally been iffy on their opinions of each other, they were quickly becoming more than comfortable with each other.

Fagin was inside, sitting at the table, counting some of his money when he heard the enormous amount of laughter erupting outside his door. The old Jew began to get up from his seat when the two walked in. By now the Dodger was in a state of composed seriousness and Charlie had managed to bring himself down to a smirk.

Fagin started to ask a question, but mid-word Charlie glanced at the Dodger, burst out laughing, and remained in an extremely long ecstasy.

Fagin stared at Jack, as if to say, "Who is that?" and "What's the matter with him?!"

"Fagin," he addressed the old gentleman, "this is Charlie Bates." He paused for a moment then decided to add, "He's a pickpocket."

The old Jew smiled widely and nodded approvingly.

By now, Charlie had regained his composure and began to pull out all his treasures that he had found that morning.

The Jew looked on with greedy pleasure. The Dodger, noticing his obvious delight, nodded slowly and smiled coolly. Fagin picked through all the goods; a snuffbox, two wallets, three handkerchiefs, and some money.

"My dear," Fagin addressed Charlie, "I suppose the Dodger has explained the way business works around here?"

Charlie grinned widely and nodded, "I get pay along with housing and vittles, right?"

"Yes, my dear, precisely."

Charlie put on a thoughtful look. He must consider the offer _very_ slowly. "I don't know…"

Fagin knew he was either trying to be annoying or get more out of the offer than he "rightly deserved", so he waited patiently.

Charlie, noticing that the old Jew was in no rush to offer him more incentive to join, responded, "Alright already! I'm in!"

With this Fagin, the Dodger, and Charlie commenced with the "celebration dinner" which was, in fact, like any ordinary dinner just with an excuse for more ale.

----

Meanwhile, over at Bill and Nancy's, Guinevere was stirring some soup idly and thinking. _Why does Jack seem so distant yet so willin' to 'elp me 'an my fam'ly financially?_ She thought for a moment, then the answer came to her, _Pride. Men are always willin' ta 'elp when th' outcome is that women look 'elpless an' men look… needed._ She thought on all this a bit longer, but was interrupted by her father coming in the door.

"If it ain't rainin' just 'cause it knows I hafta be out there in it…" Bill's voice faded off into some curses. Guinevere grimaced and tried to ignore the words he spoke.

Nancy rushed into the room and helped him off with his greatcoat.

Guinevere poured him some ale and set some bowls of soup on the table.

"Soup agin? If I don't get some proper vittles, I'll melt into naught but a puddle o' soup!" He followed his exclamations with a shake of the head and a curse.

"Bill, we'll have better tomorrow," Nancy promised and then began to beam at Guinevere, "Wait 'll you see all the lovely things Guinevere brought home! Why, we might just be able to have a feast tomorrow!"

Bill looked up at Guinevere who was blushing a little and grinning, nervously awaiting her father's approval. Bill nodded and did a half smile half leer. Guinevere smiled genuinely now and relaxed a bit.

"If I didn't know from the start she was a skilled 'un!" and with that Bill picked took a sip of his ale and dug happily into his bowl of soup.

After dinner, Guinevere assisted her mother with the dishwashing and, when finished, left to visit Fagin and the Artful Dodger.

Nancy, having done all the housework for the day, wandered into the sitting room where Bill was quietly smoking. She sat down next to him and gave him a queer smile.

After a moment, Bill spoke up, "What er you lookin' at?" He was actually a little suspicious.

"I'm lookin' at you, Bill."

_Well now why is she bein' so smart with me? No doubt she's got some strange plan goin' on in 'er head!_

"Why?!" Bill asked.

"'Cause I was thinkin' an…"

"Ah-hah!" Bill cried, "I knew it! There were somethin' goin' on in that head o' yours that needs ta be put to a stop!"

"Nonsense, Bill," Nancy laughed – this enraged Bill a little._ What's she laughin' at an' what for?!_ "Bill…" she started a little noticing that she had enraged him a little. "I was just thinkin'," she held up her hand for silence and continued, "that it's been a long time since we were alone with nothin' in particular to do."

Bill stared at her for a few moments, brows furrowed. _Well now, if she ain't tryin' to get somethin'! Wonder what, though… why don't she just come out an' ask for whatever._

He was about to voice his opinion when Nancy suddenly bestowed a kiss upon one of his unshaven cheeks. Bill, having been quite startled, stared at her for a moment. Nancy just smiled a little nervously, then, becoming a bit bolder, planted another kiss, this time on his lips.

Bill, having thoroughly forgotten all of his suspicions, gave in, and they held each other in a warm embrace.

_**A bit gross? Only to you! Hahahaha! I was in a weird mood tonight! If you're not really into Bill&Nancy than I apologize, but I had to right something for my most devoted reader, Broken Amethyst and I. Thanks again everybody!! REVIEW!!!**_


	18. Master Bates, meet Miss Sikes

**Thanks reviewers, I love you all! Alrighty, here is CHAPTER EIGHTEEN!!!!**

**Chapter 18: Master Bates, meet Miss Sikes…**

Charlie and the Dodger were by now having a thoroughly good time. Having exhausted Fagin, they were now left to their own devices in the "spacious" apartment. Both were crawling around on the floor and tapping each floorboard while listening intently.

"I give up," said the Dodger, finally standing up and rubbing his aching knees. "Fagin ain't hidin' any treasure under th' floor!"

"I am sure he must have some somewhere! How else would he be so happy?" Charlie responded.

"Ale," pointed out the Dodger, lifting up his hand as if he were holding onto a cup and tipping the invisible contents into his mouth.

This comment assisted by the action excited Master Bates causing him to burst out laughing.

"Hush!" Jack raised a finger to his lips. "You'll wake Fagin!"

Charlie nodded and shoved his hand into his wide-open mouth attempting to stifle his laughter. As he did this, there came a nock at the door. The Dodger lazily walked towards the stairs, but the person at the door, having lost their patience, had already made their way into the house.

"Oh, 'ello Guinevere," the Artful Dodger said unenthusiastically, but nonetheless politely.

"'Ello!" Guinevere said cheerfully. "And who might this jovial young gentleman be?" She was now staring at Charlie with a look of fascination on her face.

Charlie at once stopped laughing, and got up. He was staring transfixed at her and calmly said, "Eh, Dodge, you never mentioned this one… she ain't Fagin's is she?" He was still staring at Guinevere who, being completely unused to such attention was now blushing.

She decided to answer for Jack, "I'm not Fagin's, but I am a close friend o' 'is," she stuck out her hand so he could shake it. Charlie took it and laughed delightedly as he introduced himself.

"So, did the Dodger find you?" Guinevere asked politely.

"Actually, we kinda found _each other_!" and he began to laugh again.

Guinevere gave a confused look, and Charlie was quickly telling the story. His version was so entirely animated that it was hardly like what actually happened. Jack had to give him credit though; his version was funny.

The Dodger, having given up on the two, wandered over to the bottle of ale on the table and poured himself a glass. He sat down and tried to tune the two out. _Charlie don't know what's good for 'im! Or, rather, what's bad for 'im! You put a girl in front of 'im an' there he goes! You'd think she was th' first one he's ever seen – and if she is, he's been blind for all of his life save the last twelve hours!_ He was brought out of his thoughts by Charlie and Guinevere's sudden laughter at something obviously very funny. The Artful Dodger looked up to see the two practically hugging each other and howling with laughter!

"Oh! Oh! My side! If my insides don't just fall out!" Charlie exclaimed with tears in his eyes. The Dodger just shook his head.

Jack turned to address the two, "I'm goin' ta' bed." And he wandered up the stairs.

"Dodge!" Charlie called at him, "Hey! You're gonna miss all the fun!"

The Dodger, without turning around, waved a hand declining the offer and continued on his way to bed.

Guinevere just shook her head, "He's jealous. He don't like anyone to laugh at anything unless it's said by 'im!"

----

It was around nine o'clock when Guinevere announced that she must leave. Charlie, not liking the idea of her leaving, tried to delay her with as many jokes and funny stories as he could think of.

When Guinevere eventually was allowed to leave, Charlie offered to walk her home.

"But you don't understand," Guinevere said grinning, "It's the people like you that m' parents don't want me ta' be alone in the streets with!" As she said this, she slipped out the door and walked briskly off. Charlie stood there for a moment thinking then burst out laughing, then shivered, and finally closed the door and headed upstairs.

"Hey! Dodge!" he said as he hit his friend in the head with his pillow. The Dodger, who had been asleep for some time, was thoroughly annoyed and he quickly grabbed the pillow and repeatedly whacked his attacker.

"Alright! Alright!! I give up!" Charlie said amid their laughter.

He began to take off his outer clothing, and settled on a calmer conversation, "Guinevere sure is nice, ain't she?" The Dodger grunted a response, and Charlie continued on, "She has a good sense of humor – not to mention a pretty smashing figure!" He once again began to laugh.

"Oh, go ta' bed!" the Dodger said. "You need your beauty sleep, or she'll never want _you_!"

This comment caused Charlie to whack Dodger in the head with his pillow again. This, in turn, triggered a full-fledge pillow fight. The ale they had drunk was causing them to be less than quiet. They were soon roaring with laughter and did not hear the creaking floor outside their door.

The door swung open, revealing the old Jew who was half-asleep.

The Dodger, who had given up on his pillow, now had Charlie in a headlock on the floor.

Charlie, choking with laughter, fear, and air-deprivation, pointed up at Fagin.

Dodger shook his head while still staring at Charlie, "Oh, no! You're not goin' to distract me! I don't know what you're pointin' at an' I don't care!"

"Oh, are you so sure of that, my dear," Fagin smiled wickedly down at the Dodger. Shocked, Jack released Charlie and stood up quickly trying to look innocent.

There was a moment of silence.

"He did it!" Charlie and the Dodger said in unison, each pointing at the other.

Fagin just shook his head thoughtfully, trying to decide what punishment would be fitting and not life-threatening.

**Ah! Poor Dodger and Charlie! Fagin better not kill his pickpockets! And poor Dodger – he's jealous no doubt! Well, hope you liked it! Please read & review!**


	19. Reason 365

**Hello everybody! This program is brought to you by: Elaine Dawkins, Broken Amethyst, Protego Totalum, Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show, Roxy1613, ASGT and Kat Maximoff, and Bet Dawkins-Longtail's Loyalty. Thanks you guys!!! Now for CHAPTER NINETEEN!**

**Chapter 19: Reason #365 Why You Don't Eat Breakfast In Your Underwear**

The next morning the boys awoke to thoroughly aching behinds. Fagin had been none too kind last night!

"Oooooh!" the Dodger moaned as he sat up. His head hurt – _Ale_, he reminded himself, and his backside hurt worse – _Fagin_, he didn't have to remind himself, but did anyway.

Charlie hopped out of bed despite his aching rear, and he started to head downstairs for breakfast.

"Charlie," Dodger moaned, "you're not goin' down ta' the kitchen dressed – well, _un_dressed like that, are you?"

"So what if I am?" Charlie questioned. He saw nothing wrong with wandering around in his underwear.

"You'll make Fagin and I lose our appetites!" Jack laughed and then grabbed his painfully throbbing head

"All the more breakfast for me!" pointed out Charlie.

The Artful Dodger just shook his head, laid back down, and turned over.

"Aren't you going to get up?" Charlie asked incredulously.

Dodger shook his head again and then stopped abruptly, wincing. "My 'ead 'urts, my seat 'urts, and 'm tired!"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and headed downstairs.

Fagin was stirring something in a pot. Charlie wandered over to it and looked at its contents.

"Porridge, my dear," Fagin announced.

"I haven't had porridge in _ages_!" Charlie proclaimed with delight as he sat down at the table. When his rear-end came in contact with the seat, he winced. Fagin glanced at Charlie, shook his head, and went on stirring.

Suddenly Charlie burst out laughing. Fagin turned around to stare at him quizzically.

"Oh! Terribly sorry about that outburst! It's just – it's just…" and he burst out laughing again, this time hugging himself.

Jack came walking down the stair. Fagin looked to him for an explanation. Dodger just shook his head. Fagin, taking the head shake as "you don't want to know", went back to his cooking.

There was a nock at the door and Guinevere entered.

"Ah, hello Guinevere, my dear," Fagin said. This comment brought Charlie abruptly out of his laughter, and he stared perplexed at Guinevere, who was staring at him. He was all of a sudden VERY conscious of the fact that he was by no means dressed for company.

Guinevere burst out laughing, "Oh, Charlie! You should see the way you look! It's _comical_!"

Charlie, who would normally have found the incident very funny (had it been any other girl), turned red, mumbled something about clothing, got up, and walked rather quickly up stairs.

"What's up with 'im?" Guinevere asked.

The Artful Dodger sat there for a minute thinking, then he gave way to a grin.

"What's up with 'im, Dodge?" Guinevere asked agitatedly.

"It's like this, my dear," said the old Jew, "You never tell a boy who admires you that he looks comical. Hahaha!"

"I didn't mean that _he_ looked comical, I was talkin' about the expression on 'is face!" Guinevere said hoarsely. She hadn't meant to be so uncaring.

"Don't worry your pretty head over 'im, Guinevere," said the Dodger, hoping she noticed the carefully worked-in complement. "He'll be fine. Though _don't_ he look rather comical dressed like 'at?"

Fagin nodded.

Guinevere suddenly looked determined, and she strutted past the now laughing Dodger and Fagin towards the stairs.

"Where are you goin'?" Dodger called after her.

"To talk to Charlie!"

When she reached the top, she quickly found Charlie. He was sitting on his bed, clothing at his feet, staring at his hands that were resting in his lap.

"Charlie…" Guinevere said softly and she sat down on his left.

Charlie jumped slightly and scooted a little to his right.

"I didn't mean that _you_ looked comical… I was talkin' about the look on your face. I mean, you looked so stunned, I…" her voice faded away and she stared at Charlie who was silently shaking.

_Well now you've done it! You went an' made 'im cry!_ She reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Charlie…" But she was suddenly interrupted by a burst of laughter. "Charlie?" she repeated, this time questioningly.

"Look at us!" Charlie cried with glee. "Me getting all embarrassed and you feeling guilty over it all! We could perform in theater!" He burst out with more laughter.

Guinevere stared, her brows furrowed. She decided she didn't need to understand. Guinevere finally smiled, and decided, _Whatever makes 'im 'appy is fine with me!_

The Dodger wandered up the stairs and looked at the two. They were now both laughing and hugging each other the same way they had last night. Jack mumbled a curse, turned around, and walked downstairs feeling completely alone.

**Poor Dodger! Charlie and Guinevere are inseparable – well, maybe! We'll see if Dodger can't separate them! Thanks for reading! Please REVIEW!!!**


	20. All Alone, Maybe

Disclaimer (I figured I should do one): I own none of this except for the character "Guinevere" and this particular 'twist' – sorry, terrible pun – of the story. Charles Dickens or someone else who I am not knowledgeable of owns all original characters and story line.

**Well, thanks to all my reviewers, as usual. Here is CHAPTER TWENTY!!! (I can't believe it!)**

**Chapter 20: All Alone… Maybe**

The Dodger wandered out to work without Charlie who, he knew, could find him if he really wanted to. He walked through town, neglecting his duties, and reflecting on his thoughts. _What is it that Guinevere sees in 'im? What is it that she don't see in me? Does she even LIKE Charlie? Does she LIKE me?_ His thoughts floated over all the things that had happened or been said. He could hear old Fagin, "Never tell a boy who admires you that he looks comical. Hahaha!" And Guinevere, "I didn't mean that _he_ looked comical… I meant that _Dodger_ looked comical!" - NO! She hadn't said that! _She practically did_, he thought mournfully. Tears welled up in his eyes. There was a lump in his throat. He gulped. Jack turned down an alley and began to run. He didn't know where he was going, the only thing he knew was that Guinevere and Fagin could do without him. _They've got Charlie._ Tears streamed down his face. He threw himself down on the ground beside a garbage can and began to sob noisily.

He felt ashamed. He shouldn't be crying like some six year-old that scraped his knee. He was the Artful Dodger! He calmed for a moment, then burst again out, noisier than ever. No, he wasn't the Artful Dodger! It was just a title. A title he no longer belonged to. He didn't deserve it.

He cried for about ten minutes before he managed to quiet himself. Getting up, the Dodger headed off. He didn't know where exactly he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away; that was enough for him.

Jack shivered. It was cold, wet, and foggy. He noticed a passerby staring at him. He lowered his hat a bit more in the front. He didn't want to look like he'd been crying – he didn't want anyone to know. He lowered his head a little, hoping that it would make his emotions even less obvious.

He was wandering down a busy street when an image came into his head. It was Guinevere and Charlie hugging each other and laughing. _At me_, he thought. Tears started streaming down his face again and he felt the lump in his throat more pronounced than ever. _No! Not now!_ The Dodger began to panic. Breaking into a run, he ran past all the bars, market stands, and shops. Gasping for air and sobbing, he looked for a refuge. _Not a bar. If I walk in one of 'em like this, I'll get beat up._ Either way, it was his only hope. He attempted to calm himself. He stopped down an alleyway, took some deep breaths, cleared his head, and dried his tears.

After a few minutes, he walked towards a bar called "Lucky Ladies Lounge". Jack entered. Looking around, he saw an empty table in a dark corner. He sat down and waited for service all the while keeping his eyes concealed from view.

An auburn-haired "lady" with dark eye-makeup wandered over to him. "Need anything?" she asked in a sultry voice.

"Whiskey," the Dodger said hoarsely. He didn't look at her. _Fine time for you ta' be wastin' money! Your gonna need every bit you got!_

She walked off. Recognizing the signs of a lonely, deprived soul, she made a mental note to give him "as much attention as was good for him" - and her wallet.

The Dodger sat there listening to the plinky piano playing and watching a group of men playing poker. He began to feel quite at home. _Who needs 'er anyway? Charlie can 'ave 'er! Maybe._

The lady walked back over to him carrying some whiskey (more than he should have, but it might get him a bit more interested in her services). She set it down with a thud in front of him and, after moving a chair closer to him, sat down.

Dodger took a sip, then glanced out of the corner of his eye at her. She was staring at him with wrapped attention. He wasn't really used to this. In The Three Cripples, any woman who happened to be there never gave him any notice.

She reached out a hand and twirled a little of his hair around her slender finger. He made a mental note that he needed a haircut. He tried to ignore her. But it was hard. Her hand was so… warm… inviting. She began to stroke some of his hair (the little that she could get at from under his hat). Dodger took another sip of the whiskey. He nearly choked this time as her lips touched his ear, then his neck. He gulped hard, coughed a couple times to clear his throat, and stared at his glass.

She didn't give up on him. She had worked with his type before. She slid her arm through his and breathed into his ear a few soft words, "Lonely? I can fix that…" He was somewhat mesmerized. She gently guided him out of his chair, and towards some stairs. The Dodger was too shocked to do anything, and the whiskey wasn't helping his common sense either.

They were halfway up the stairs when Dodger heard a voice from behind. "Dodger?!" It was Guinevere's mother, Nancy, whom he had met a few days ago. "Dodger!" she repeated, this time more urgently.

The Dodger turned slowly around, the lady still hanging on his arm. "Nance?" he questioned.

"What are you doin' here?!" She gave an indignant look at the lady who had Dodger's arm.

"I came for a drink." _Why does Nancy have to stick her nose into my personal life?!_

"Looks to me like you're getting more than 'a drink'!" She glared at the lady and grabbed the Dodger's other arm. "I'm taking you home."

"Nance!" the Dodger said through gritted teeth, "I'm not a _child_!!!"

"Oh, course you aren't – least ways, you won't be once this villain," she glared at the lady again, "gets through with you!"

"It ain't none o' your business, anyway, Nance!" He turned and began to head back up the stairs.

Nancy stopped him once more. "As I see it, you got two choices! One: You cooperate with me and leave with your dignity in tact or two: I take you out of here kicking and screaming like a child!"

Dodger glared at Nancy for a moment and then turned and followed her.

**There you have it! Please REVIEW!!!**


	21. Dr Nancy

**Hello! Can you believe that this is CHAPTER TWENTY? Boy, time flies! Once again, thanks to all my sponsors (there are so many of you – which is a **_**very**_** good thing – that it would take far too long to list)! You guys are GREAT!!! On with the story!**

**Chapter 21: Dr. Phil… er, no… "Dr. Nancy"**

Once the Dodger and Nancy were outside, she grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of her apartment.

"Where are we goin'?" asked the Dodger. He was exasperated.

"I'm taking you to Bill's. That way, we can have a good and proper talk!"

"Nance!" the Dodger moaned. "What's there ta' talk 'bout. I was just in a bar, getting a drink-"

"We already went over this! _You_ were gonna have far more than a 'drink'! To think that I've heard so much praise from Fagin and Guinevere about how you're no slacker and-"

"Guinevere said something 'bout me?" the Dodger asked carefully. "What 'id she say?"

"Well, as I recall it, she said you were a hard-worker, very focused, and that you are good at what you do," Nancy smiled.

"Darn!" _That's it? That's all she said?!_

"Huh?" asked Nancy.

"Nothin'."

"You said 'Darn!', why?"

"No reason." He pretended to be interested in the grimy buildings they passed.

Nancy just shook her head. She'd get it out of him in good time.

Once they arrived at Bill's, they went into the kitchen. Lighting the fire and a candle, she started some coffee. After she finished, she turned and focused on the Dodger, who was seated at the table.

"So, why were you taking a break from work," she sat down across from him.

"I just wanted a dr-" wait, he didn't want to start that argument all over again, "I was havin' a good day, so I figured I'd take a break – a small reward for all my 'ard work."

"Can I see what you got so far?" Nancy acted curiously.

"Ummmm…" Jack knew he actually hadn't gotten anything. What should he show her? "Um…" He fingered his empty pockets.

"Look at me!" Nancy interrupted him. He looked up, slightly confused. "Your eyes are red and puffy… 'ave you been crying?!" she asked as carefully as possible, but still not well enough to hide her surprise.

The Dodger turned red. _Why did I look at 'er?!_ "No!" he answered nervously. "Prob'ly just the whiskey…" He started to examine a button on his greatcoat.

Nancy got up to retrieve the coffee, hoping that by avoiding looking at him it might encourage him to tell her whatever was bothering him. She poured the coffee into two cups; one for him and one for her. He still didn't speak up. Giving up, she said, "You don't have to tell me why if you don't want to… I just might be able to help you…" she waited for him to respond, but he just stared at his coat-button. Bringing over the coffee, she decided it was time to use her best (and worst) weapon, "I'll tell all the others that you were crying if you don't tell me why."

Dodger looked up, mouth dropped open in shock. "You wouldn't!" he said, daring her with his eyes.

"I could…" Nancy answered nonchalantly as she handed him his coffee.

Dodger bowed his head a little and stared into his coffee. He was silent for a moment. "Nance… I, well, it's diff'cult to explain… it's not really important… not even int'restin'…"

"It's obviously important to you…," Nancy said. She reached a hand across the table and clasped one of the Dodger's hands that were lying on the table. He jumped slightly at the contact. His hand was cold.

Finally the Dodger spoke, "There's this girl," he paused waiting for her to laugh and ask 'Is that all?', but she didn't. He decided to continue, "'an she don't know I'm 'live… she knows _somebody else_ is 'live, though…"

"And because she's interested in the other person, she doesn't really notice you?" Nancy asked quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Dodger?" when she spoke his name, he looked up at her, "I don't think that you need to worry about it. She obviously doesn't have good taste if she don't even notice you." Nancy smiled.

All the Dodger could do to keep from laughing at the fact that she was insulting her own daughter was to nod and drink more of his coffee.

"Nance," he finally said, "there's 'least one problem with your logic… this girl does have good taste."

"How do you know that?" Nancy asked almost laughing.

"'Cause… you know 'er… she's… 'er name's… Guinevere."

----

When the Dodger arrived back at Fagin's that evening, he was very quiet. Thoughts were swimming through his head. He was thinking about all the advice Nancy had given him: "Give her some flowers." "Take her somewhere nice." "Just tell her how you feel." The last suggestion seemed to echo in his head. Maybe he didn't have to _tell_ her… maybe he could _show_ her. The only problem with this logic was that he couldn't even think of one good way to do it. Every idea he got was turned away as 'not good enough', 'too obvious', or 'not obvious enough'.

"… my dear?" It was Fagin speaking.

"What?" the Dodger asked.

"I asked how your day was. Get anything good?"

"A bit," he answered and pulled the objects out of his pockets.

"Nice work, my dear. Very nice!" Fagin handed him some money and shooed him upstairs to wait till dinner was ready.

**Hmmm… kind of boring, but nonetheless, an important chapter. Please review!**


	22. Distraction And Satisfaction

**YAAAY! Chapter twenty-two!!!! Well, I think it may be getting close to "the end", but I am not sure. There may be a few days in between each new posting because I am not sure if the next few chapters my be the end – and I want to warn you all before it does end, that it is going to! Anyway, thanks reviewers!**

**Red-Cherry-Flowers: Great reviewer! Lovely person! Made me smile when I read chapter twenty-one's review!**

**Protego Totalum: Very devoted even though busy with work! Also one of my first reviewers!**

**Elaine Dawkins: Duh! What can I say? She rocks in every way!**

**Broken Amethyst: VERY devoted reader and reviewer! Brilliant AND writing a lovely story herself!**

**Lontail's Loyalty-Bet Dawkins: Hahaha! What can I say? You ROCK!**

**Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show: Lovely reviews! Inspiring, hop you enjoy this chapter!**

**ASGT and Kat Maximoff: Wonderful reviewer! Thank you so much!**

**If I missed anybody, I apologize! Thanks all! On with the show!**

**Chapter 22: Distraction And Satisfaction**

(a few days later)

Dodger had practically given up hope. Charlie and Guinevere were more inseparable than ever. However, outside of the occasional flirting, they just seemed like best friends. Maybe he still had a chance. No, Charlie was DEFINITELY interested in her. Then again, he could beat Charlie at practically anything; poker, pickpocketing, arm-wrestling…

Dodger nodded once determinedly at his reflection in the privy mirror. He would do it. He would ask Guinevere to pick pockets with him. It wasn't a big step, but that didn't matter, right? Besides, it was the perfect opportunity. Charlie was sick with the stomach flu!

He gave his hat a final cock and walked purposefully to breakfast.

Right away the Dodger noticed Guinevere (ever since she and Charlie had hit it off, she had taken to coming around in the mornings while the boys were eating breakfast).

"'Ello!" she said cheerfully, "Where's Charlie?" she looked around the room as if to make sure he hadn't turned into a chameleon.

"He's sick with the stomach flu," the Dodger said simply, waiting for her reaction.

"Oh. Well, I 'ope he gets better soon." She smiled at Fagin, and continued on, "What will Fagin do without one o' his best pickpockets?" She laughed lightly and smiled.

Jack just shook his head, smiling and announced that he "didn't have a clue."

He decided that now was the time to broach the subject. "Say, er, Guinevere, you wouldn't mind 'elping me today, would you? With Charlie sick an' all, I don't have no one to pick pockets with." He smiled what he hoped was a friendly smile, and looked her in the eyes. Those beautiful, green eyes…

"Why, o'course. We 'aven't done that in _ages_." For a moment, she thought back to the uncomfortable day they had spent working together. Pushing it out of her mind, she decided that this time was bound to be more enjoyable.

----

After the Dodger finished breakfast, they headed towards town.

"So… 'ow's Nance?" He didn't have a clue what to talk about. Charlie was always so funny. Jack didn't know if he could possibly be as enjoyable as him.

"She's doing pretty well. Daddy's business is goin' better, so he and mamma are both a lot happier recently. It's almost scary!" She laughed and the Dodger joined in.

"I don't suppose that some o' your family's business-success might be because of the money that Fagin's givin' you for findin' me?" Dodger kept his voice natural. He wasn't angry. He just wanted answers.

"Oh… you know about that?" Guinevere paused nervously. The Dodger nodded. "Well, ummm… I don't really know why I… maybe I just figured that…" there was an extremely long pause, "Oh! I can't make excuses! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to turn you into a business proposition, it just seemed so…" she searched for the right word.

"Easy," the Dodger finished her sentence.

"Yeah." Guinevere looked down guiltily at her shoes.

"I don't blame you," the Dodger said simply. "I was just wanderin' why neither you nor Fagin never mentioned it to me!"

"I told 'im not to," she said quietly. Why had she ever tried to make money off of him?

"Ah, well. It don't matter anyway." He smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"You had a right ta' ask 'bout it… 'ow did you find out, anyway?"

"Charlie caught a glimpse o' Fagin 'anding you the money, so he asked Fagin 'bout it. Then, he told me."

Guinevere nodded. It was all she could do. The guilt inside her was mind numbing.

"'Ow 'bout 'im over there?" Dodger asked softly pointing at a man who was window-shopping.

Guinevere had been so busy thinking, that she hadn't noticed their arrival in town. "What? Uh…. Oh! Yes, he looks fine." They quickly went to work.

----

A few hours later, they decided that it was a good time for a lunch break. Walking over to a food stand, they slipped dried meats, bread, and fruit into their pockets. Catching her eye, the Dodger motioned for them to go down an alleyway. They were walking away as nonchalantly as possible when the baker at the stand yelled, "THEIVES!!! THAT WAY! POLICE! THEY HEADED THAT WAY! CATCH THEM!!!!"

Guinevere and the Dodger, quite sure that their careers – and lives – were about to end, looked for a way out. Guinevere turned to run, but the Dodger grabbed her. "No! They'll know for sure it's us if you take off runnin'!" Hit with sudden inspiration, he decided to give his idea a try. "Put your arm's round me!" he ordered.

"Wha-" Guinevere was confused.

"Just do it." The Dodger glanced back just in time to see two police officers breaking out of a frenzied crowd. Putting one arm around her waist and his hand against the back of her head, he pushed his lips against hers. The Dodger could tell she was shocked. He was pretty shocked, too. He felt her slip her arms around his neck He hoped it all looked natural. They were slightly away from the market-crowds, off to the side of the street, and (hopefully) looked like they were in their own little world (he knew he was).

It was a few minutes before they dared to break apart. At least, that would be their _excuse_.

Dodger didn't completely let go of her yet. He looked down at her. He felt very light-headed and as though his whole body were numb. He finally spoke, "You think we tricked 'em?"

"Who?" Guinevere asked. She was feeling a bit dazed.

"The traps," Dodger said after a moments thought.

"Oh," she paused to look around, her arms still around his neck. "Must've."

**Wow, I melted myself on that one! Romances not your thing? You saw the warning! This **_**is**_** a romance/crime story! I hope you enjoyed it (I sure did!)! Please review!**


	23. She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

**Hey everyone! It's CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE!!!!! Yeah, it's short, but you'll just have to deal with that. Again, thanks reviewers! Oh, and I would like to thank another person who (even though they have not reviewed) have added "Guinevere" to their favorites list! Thank you Weasley Is Our Queen!!! On with the story!**

**Chapter 23: She Loves Me… She Loves Me Not… She Loves Me…**

After agreeing that they had done enough for the day, the Dodger and Guinevere proceeded to walk back to their homes. They were completely silent until they arrived at the area where their paths headed in separate directions. They both stopped and stood there for a moment. Guinevere was staring at her feet, and the Dodger was picking at a little dried-on muck that was on his coat.

"Well, ummm…" Guinevere didn't have a clue what to say. How should they say goodbye? Did he even mean anything by the kiss, or were the traps just a way of avoiding catching it? She decided that assuming the latter would be the safest approach. "I suppose I'll see you 'round…"

"Yeah," the Dodger ventured to glance up at her and she glanced nervously up at him before returning her attention to her dirty shoes.

"G'bye," she said softly.

"G'bye," the Dodger replied he slowly started to approach her, but she had already turned and headed on.

He didn't know what to think. Everything had been so confusing. Everything was still confusing.

Jack turned and headed for Fagin's. At first, he spent his time trying to understand Guinevere. Quickly giving up on that, he decided to dwell on a much more pleasant and easy to understand thing: the kiss.

A few minutes later, he heard someone calling his name.

"Dodger! Hey! DODGE!"

It was Charlie.

The Dodger looked over his shoulder, slightly confused.

"Hey, Dodge!" Charlie had run up to him, very out of breath. "Where in all of London are you headed?"

"Fagin's…," the Dodger said slowly, thinking that Charlie must be going off his rocker. "What're you doin' outta bed? You've got the flu!"

Charlie burst out into laughter and pointed in the direction that the Dodger had just come from. "Fagin's… Fagin's… hahaha…. is back there!" he burst out into more laughter. "You just walked right past it!"

Jack felt his face grow hot and was sure that it was turning bright red. For some weird reason, he felt that Charlie and Fagin would guess everything that had happened that day.

After Charlie had gained control of himself, he spoke, "I'm feeling much better, now. I was going crazy inside, so I snuck out!"

The Dodger, relieved that Charlie had brought the attention back to himself, replied, "Well, you do look a bit better…"

"Better? I'm cured!" He did a little spin to prove just how healthy he was, but his knees buckled and he found himself clinging onto the Dodger.

"Cured?" the Dodger asked sarcastically. "I'd say you're still ill!"

Charlie laughed then swayed dangerously. Dodger grabbed Charlie around the waist and supported him as they walked back to Fagin's.

When they entered, Fagin was waiting at the door.

"I caught your run-away!" the Dodger proclaimed as he released Charlie and watched him slide to the floor.

"Ah, very good, my dear. But why are you back so soon? He didn't wander all the way into town did he?" Fagin looked disapprovingly at Charlie who he was silently shepherding upstairs.

"Ah, no! He didn't! It's just… me an' Guinevere… we, er… ran into a bit o' trouble during work." The last part of his explanation came out in a nervous rush. His cheeks flushed as he thought of the "diversion" he and Guinevere had used to avoid the traps. He continued on as quickly as possible, "I got a lot of good pockets," he emptied his pockets, hoping that the treasures would distract the old Jew.

Fagin nodded in approval, pleased by what he saw, and quickly left to attend to a moaning Charlie.

The Dodger sighed with relief when he was left alone. He rubbed his eyes. He was suddenly feeling quite exhausted.

----

Guinevere was beginning to regret leaving the Dodger so quickly without a word about the kiss they had shared. Should she have said something? Should she have kissed him again when they parted company? Was she over-thinking things?

"Urg!" she said aloud. She shook her head to try to get rid of the questions bouncing around in her mind. It didn't work. As she continued walking, more thoughts hit her. Should she even be interested in the Dodger? Didn't she like Charlie? Couldn't she like both of them? _Now THAT would cause a civil war! It's common knowledge that a boy ain't supposed to be int'rested in the same girl as their best friend is int'rested in._ Guinevere shook her head again and then rubbed her temples. She was sure she was getting a headache.

Realizing that she was nearing home, she knew for sure that she needed to forget about such trivial things and focus on her family. Guinevere didn't dare to be so selfish as to bring it up in front of Bill or Nancy. They had more important things on their minds.

She stood up tall and proud. Smiling contentedly, she walked into the house.

**Okay, so it was a kind of uninteresting chapter, but it was an IMPORTANT one. Oh, and you know how I said that this the story was nearing the end, well, the characters opened up another can of worms in my brain, so this isn't as close to ending as I thought it was (hurray!!!)! Anyway, please REVIEW!!!!**


	24. A Merry Christmas Eve

**Hello everyone!!! Thanks for all the reviews! We are now arriving at chapter TWENTY-FOUR!!!! It's a big day!!! Sorry about my excitement (Master Bates is also extremely excited)! Oh, and it's a Christmas one (which I personally don't mind), but you'll have to read it because it is important to the story! Now, on with it!**

**Chapter 24: A Merry Christmas Eve**

As it neared Christmas, the Dodger and Charlie became more and more distracted. Then, of course, there was the ever-present fact that there were absolutely no decorations up anywhere inside their apartment save the boys' bedroom which had a candy-cane or two lying around. Fagin had given a resounding "no" when asked if he was going to get them a Christmas tree, but somehow the boys managed to make it feel "Christmassy enough". They were constantly saving money to buy each other presents; each vowing that they were going to get the other the "best present ever".

When Christmas Eve finally came, the boys were extremely fidgety. They decided to distract themselves by decorating the house with whatever they found. Charlie made a beautiful decoration that was composed of a string that hung across the room with handkerchiefs draped over it. The Dodger was kind enough to go out and find a slightly tragic, but nonetheless green, tree. They hung pickpocket finds such as watches and jewelry on it, and put a hat they had stolen on top.

Once they had finished, they both stood back and looked at their handy-work.

"It's rather pretty the way the jewelry and gold watches reflect the candlelight!" Charlie giggled.

"I'd say it's a shame that no one 'sides us 'll see it…" the Dodger gave a smile, "What if we invited Nance and Guinevere over for dinner?"

"I'd say that Bill wouldn't allow it unless he could come, and Fagin wouldn't allow it 'cause he'd have to cook all the food!"

"Shame…," the Dodger shook his head sadly, "What if they just 'showed up' an' it happened ta' be dinnertime?"

"Might be able to work that out…," Charlie said thoughtfully. He grinned slowly. "You want to invite them, or should I?"

"I'll do it." The Dodger strutted across the room and out the door.

Just as he was leaving, Fagin walked in and ducked under the hanging handkerchief-covered string.

"Where's the Dodger going, my dear?"

"What?! You didn't even compliment all our work!" Charlie put on a hurt look. "I know that Jews don't exactly celebrate Christmas, but you've got to admit that we did wonders with the place!"

"Ah, yes of course, my dear. It does look lovely." He walked about the room, commenting on various decorations. After what he hoped was a suitable amount of praise, he repeated his question again, "Where'd the Dodger go off to, my dear?"

"He went to wish Bill, Nancy, and Guinevere a 'Merry Christmas'! Dodger and I got you a present even though you don't celebrate the holiday." Charlie pointed at a package under the tree. "But, you are NOT supposed to open it until Christmas!" Charlie put on a no-nonsense look and acted as though he was addressing a mischievous child.

"I have no intentions of doing any such thing, my dear." However, his eyes strayed to the package and a greedy look passed over his face, but he quickly replaced it with a good-natured smile. "I'll start on lunch then."

----

At around five-thirty that evening, Bill, Nancy, and Guinevere arrived. Nancy and Guinevere were both dressed in fancier dresses than usual. Guinevere had done her mousy-brown hair up so that a few curls hung daintily down around her neck and face. Bill hadn't seemed to make any effort to look better than usual and he even smelled like he my have had a drink or two before coming over.

Fagin surprised everyone by serving a leg of lamb even though he "didn't have a clue" that they all were coming over.

After dinner, the Dodger and Bill sat at the table playing various card games, Nancy and Fagin discussed a number of criminal issues, and Charlie took Guinevere upstairs because he wanted to "show her something". When Charlie announced this to her, the Dodger glanced up suspiciously, but continued to play cards with Bill.

Once they got upstairs and Charlie had closed the door, he spoke, "I got you a present and I didn't really want a crowd around when I gave it to you… it's kind of personal…," Charlie gave a sneaky grin and retrieved a small box with a ribbon tied around it out from under his bed.

Guinevere giggled with delight, "You really don't 'ave to, Charlie! I mean, I didn't even bring your present with me t'night! I figured on giving you yours t'morrow. 'Sides, isn't opening a present tonight sort-of breakin' the rules?"

"No… at least I don't think any of those rules are very important." He handed the gift to Guinevere. "Open it!" He smiled encouragingly.

After untying the ribbon, she lifted the lid, revealing a note that was resting on top of something wrapped in tissue paper. She lifted up the note and read it to herself.

_When I saw this, it made me think of you. Hope you find a good use for it! (__Wink, wink) Love, Charlie_

She smiled excitedly up at Charlie. Pulling back the tissue paper revealed some mistletoe. She smiled and stared at it for a moment. Words out of Charlie's note reverberated in her head, _Hope you find a good use for it! (Wink, wink)_

She regained her composure and smiled conspiratorially at Charlie. Lifting up the mistletoe to where she was holding it above her head, she smiled invitingly at him. Charlie grinned and moved towards her so that he was under the mistletoe with her. He put his arms around her waist and looked intently into her eyes before applying his lips to hers. Guinevere slowly lowered her arm which was holding-up the mistletoe so that she could wrap it around Charlie.

When they finally broke apart, Guinevere rested her head against Charlie's shoulder and smiled contentedly. "Oh, Charlie," she sighed and hugged him tighter. "I wish we could stay up here together forever." Charlie would have laughed, but he took the comment very seriously and nodded in agreement.

Guinevere glanced up at him. "Could we do it again?"

Charlie grinned and expressed his opinion that "it wouldn't cause the collapse of the London Bridge". Guinevere giggled and was once again lost in a long, deep kiss.

**I melted myself again! And I can tell you that Master Bates thoroughly enjoyed this chapter! Well, please REVIEW!!!**


	25. Christmas Day

**Here we are at chapter TWENTY-FIVE!!!! WOOOOHOOOO!!! Yeah, I know, my excitement is contagious. Oh, and did you notice that I am doing chapter "25" for "December 25"? Yeah, I thought that it worked out perfectly. Thanks to all my reviewers, we are now presenting this chapter in high-definition… you just can't **_**tell**_** that it's high definition. Er, anyway, here's the next bit!**

**Chapter 25: Christmas Day**

"Dodge…"

Someone was whispering into the Dodger's ear. He saw a lit match and then a lit candle.

"Dodge, pleeeaaase!" someone was tugging at his sheets.

The Artful Dodger turned over and mumbled something.

"DODGER!" Charlie repeated loudly into his ear.

Jack jumped up immediately and decided that the best way to start the morning would be to strangle Charlie.

Charlie pushed the sleepy Dodger off of him and started looking for something to defend himself with. Eyeing the present that he had bought for the Dodger, he held it in front of him like a peace offering.

The Dodger just stood there and stared at him confusedly through one eye. He finally spoke, "Charlie… what are you doin'?" He searched through his overcoat, which was lying on the floor. Finding his pocket-watch, he moaned. "Charlie! It's three thirty-six in the morning!"

"Yes… but it's Christmas!"

The Dodger stared at Charlie in disbelief. "I'm sorry," he shook his head, "but 'Christmas' in _my_ mind don't start 'till nine-thirty!"

"Nine-thirty!" Charlie moaned. "But you usually wake up at seven-thirty!"

"Well, today's a hol'day so wake-up time changes to nine-thirty!"

"But," Charlie put on a hurt look, "don't you want to open the present I got you?"

The Dodger's strong-willedness momentarily crumbled, but then his resolve hardened as he thought. "Charlie… you only want me ta' open _my_ gift… so's you can open _your_ gift!"

Charlie looked guiltily down at his feet. The Dodger glanced at Charlie, walked over to his bed, and once again settled underneath its warm covers. He lay there for a few minutes, completely silent. Charlie fussed with the bow he had tied on the Dodger's present. Then, the Dodger sighed, pulled off his covers, and walked over to Charlie. After taking the present Charlie was holding, he handed the present that he had bought to Charlie who grinned excitedly.

Dodger shook his head and smiled.

They each read the cards that were place on top of the presents.

_To: Charlie From: The Artful Dodger Hope you like it. After all, it IS "the best present ever." Merry Christmas! (Don't show this gift to Fagin!)_

_To: The Artful Dodger From: Charlie This is (no doubt) the best present ever, so enjoy it! If you don't, I will be forced to enjoy it myself! Merry Christmas! (Don't show this gift to Fagin!) _

When they opened the boxes, both their mouths dropped open in shock, then Charlie burst out laughing and the Dodger grinned widely. They had each bought each other large bottles of whiskey.

"Well, least we're 'greed on what 'the best present ever' is," the Dodger smirked. "How 'bout you an' I go an' look for a bottle-opener?"

Charlie nodded in agreement and grabbed the candle.

Still clutching their presents, they tiptoed down the stairs. The Dodger, who was in front, scanned the room from right to left. Glancing at Charlie, he motioned that everything looked clear. They both walked across the room and over to the kitchen. Opening a drawer, Charlie smiled with excitement. "Here it is!" he whispered excitedly.

The Dodger nodded and motioned that he thought they should go back upstairs.

Once they got back upstairs, the opened their bottles of whiskey.

"Here's to us!" Charlie proclaimed.

"To us!" the Dodger echoed. They both took a large swig of their whiskey.

As they drank more and more, their toasts became more and more extravagant.

"To Fagin's underpants!" Charlie proclaimed.

"Ah!" cried the Dodger. "To _Nancy's_ underpants!"

"Hear, hear!"

They both drank for a few moments.

"To pickpockets world-wide!" the Dodger suggested.

"And to pickpockets who aren't that fat yet!" answered Charlie. They both laughed loudly.

Below them, Fagin was roused from his sleep. He heard a large amount of laughter.

"_To world peace and the fools who think it'll ever be accomplished!"_

Fagin glared up at the ceiling and raised himself out of bed.

Back upstairs, they were becoming even rowdier. After an exceptionally large burst of laughter, the Dodger and Charlie both cried, "To every shapely inch o' Guinevere!"

They both stopped their merriment abruptly. Charlie looked at the Dodger in shocked amazement. The Dodger glared at Charlie. They both put down their bottles. Charlie moved towards Dodger with anger in his eyes. The Dodger crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. The next thing they knew, they were in the middle of the equivalent of a girls' "cat-fight"…

**Uh, oh! Do boys **_**ever**_** stop fighting? I suppose we'll see, won't we? Master Bates is obviously unable to comment at the moment. I hope they don't kill each other… Well, please REVIEW!**


	26. Love Triangles, CatFights, Gunslingers

**Hello everybody!!! Thanks to all my reviewers (Red-Cherry-Flowers, Broken Amethyst, Elaine Dawkins, Protego Totalum, Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show, Bet Dawkins-Longtail's Loyalty, ASGT and Kat Maximoff)!!! Assuming that I did actually manage to list you all, I will now continue on with the story (my apologies if I missed someone – if so, it probably means that whoever has not reviewed in a VERY long time!). Here's the next installment (it's a bit longer than usual):**

**Chapter 26: Love Triangles And Cat-Fights And Gunslingers, Oh My!**

Fagin made his way up the steps. He stared angrily at the door he was approaching. The old Jew reached for the knob, but as he did so, the door opened and the Dodger and Charlie came rolling out locked in an unfriendly grip.

Fagin stared in amazement. Nearly four in the morning and the two were bloody, smelt of whiskey, and – amazingly enough – fully awake. He stared for a few moments and then finally reached down, pulled them apart, and glared at them each in turn.

The Dodger had a bloody nose, a swollen lip, and bruises that were already appearing all over his body. He was covered in blood from his bleeding nose. Charlie had a large cut across his cheek that was oozing blood, a black eye, and small painful cuts on his arms and legs.

Fagin stared at them in amazed rage. Charlie and the Dodger scooted towards each other like they always did when the old Jew looked at them that way. They each wanted to kill each other, but neither of them counted on _both_ of them dying.

Fagin's mouth moved as though he was trying to form words. When he found his voice, all he could say was, "What are you two doing?!"

"Standing here," Charlie answered honestly and almost giggled.

"I _mean_," Fagin seethed, "_before_… you know… when I came up here!"

"Oh, you mean the… small argument that we were… working out?" Charlie tried nervously.

"_Small argument_? _SMALL_ _ARGUMENT_?!! My dears, that did NOT look like a _small argument_ to me! Look at you both! Your both bruised, bleeding, swollen!" as he listed their ailments, he pointed at the injuries. "What started it all?!!"

Jack and Charlie silently glanced at each other.

"Ummm," the Dodger began, "we're dust workin' out a disagweement…," his bloody nose was affecting his speech terribly.

"_What_ disagreement do you speak of?" Fagin asked wildly.

Charlie had an answer already prepared, "_He_," he pointed at the Dodger, "made a comment about my girl!"

"_Your_ gurl!" the Dodger interjected. "Ooo says she's yours? She's bine!"

"How dare you…" Charlie glared at the Dodger.

The Dodger, once again, hurled himself at Charlie.

"STOP!!!" Fagin yelled. They didn't stop. Fagin ran down the stairs and grabbed the handiest thing he could find. Running back upstairs, he produced his weapon.

The Dodger was just aiming a blow at Charlie when he found the fire-poker in his face. Both the Dodger and Charlie froze.

"Alright, my dears, are you ready to play nice?" Fagin was using a dreadfully sweet yet menacing voice. "It you don't get along, I may be forced to call… backup support…" he said the last words delicately.

Charlie and the Dodger stared at each other fearfully. Each giving a nod to the other, they stood up, shook hands, and headed for the privy to clean up.

Neither of them dared to say a word to the other. Both were afraid that it would set them off again. Besides, they both knew that Guinevere would be the true judge of it all. Each was sure that Guinevere would pick him. That is, outside of a nagging feeling that somehow the other had won Guinevere's approval. Each of them shook off their worries and set to cleaning and bandaging their wounds in silence.

----

Once it was actually "morning", Fagin cooked them breakfast and then ordered them to work. Neither of them protested even though it was Christmas day.

The Dodger headed in one direction and Charlie in the other. Each of them worked until lunchtime, at which point, Charlie decided that he would go visit Nancy and Guinevere. The Dodger, unaware of this, continued his work after a short lunch break.

Charlie knocked on Bill and Nancy's door.

"Just a minute!" called Guinevere. She opened the door. "Charlie!" she proclaimed excitedly as she gave him a hug. Stepping back, she took a better look at him. "Charlie…" she said in horror, seeing the large bandage covering a long cut across his cheek. "What 'appened to you?" She guided him inside and led him to a small couch.

Charlie smiled, shook his head, and answered, "Nothing. Just back from the wars, that's all!" He began to laugh and sat down.

Guinevere didn't laugh, but gazed at him with concern. "Charlie! It don't look like 'nothing' to me!"

Charlie thanked God that his other wounds were hidden under his clothes. "I had a bad fall-out with a gentleman's pocketknife," he lied, pulling a pocketknife that he had stolen earlier that morning out of his pocket.

Guinevere didn't really believe his story, but she tried to push it out of her mind. "Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, clasping her hands. He looked around the room. "Are your parents here?"

"No… Daddy's who-knows-where and Mamma's tryin' ta' find 'im."

He leaned towards her and smiled. "You smell nice." He leaned in a little closer and kissed her neck. Guinevere squirmed slightly and giggled.

"Charlie…"

"Shhhh…" His lips trailed kisses along her cheek and to her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and she returned the motion.

"Mmmm…"

They were oblivious to everything. No footsteps outside, door opening, or smell of alcohol and cheap perfume penetrated their awareness. That is, until Bill spoke.

"What're yer doin'?!!!" he asked outraged.

Guinevere screamed with surprise, Charlie's eyes were wide with shock and fear – he had never liked Bill.

"Daddy… uh, hi!" Guinevere tried, quickly putting on a smile. "Mamma's been out lookin' for you… I think she'll…"

He wasn't listening, he was glaring at Charlie, "WHAT'RE YER DOIN'?!!" he repeated, swaying a little as he spoke. He leered at Charlie. Guinevere tried to work her way between them, but it didn't work. Bill grabbed Charlie's overcoat and breathed in his face, "YER NOT EVEN S'POSE TER TOUCH 'ER!"

Charlie shrank back in fear of him and shock at how bad his breath was.

"DADDY!" Guinevere cried, tears were streaming down her face. "Daddy, please! Leave 'im alone!"

To Charlie and Guinevere's shock, Bill let go of him. He backed away slightly, swayed, and reached into his pocket. Pulling out a pistol, he pointed it at Charlie's head.

**Hmmm… well, THAT was scary (luckily I'm the writer and I know what's going to happen next – actually, I don't really, but that's irrelevant)! Well, please review!**


	27. Thank Goodness For The Sandwich!

**Hello, it's me! Here with chapter TWENTY-SEVEN!!! (I never expected my story to go this long! Woohoo!) Anyway, sorry for leaving you hanging! On with it!**

**Chapter 27: Thank Goodness For The Horrible Tasting Sandwich!**

The Dodger slowly chewed his sandwich. So many thoughts were floating around in his head. _That gentleman 'ould be a good one to pickpocket. How much does Guinevere like Charlie? My birthday's comin' up… I wonder if Fagin's still 'noyed with me and Charlie? Yes!! The gentleman was carrying three pounds and a 'andkerchief! This sandwich tastes 'orrible!_

He shook his head in the hopes of clearing all the thoughts out. Turning a corner, he walked straight into Nancy.

"Ooops!" Nancy grabbed onto the Dodger to keep from hitting the ground. "Sorry I- Oh! Dodge! Nice black eye!" she pointed at his left eye causing the Dodger to lower his hat a little. "Well, lucky _running_ into you!" she laughed at her own joke. "You didn't happen to see Bill anywhere, have you? He's wondered off somewhere and I've searched through all the bars I can think of!"

"Well, no. I 'aven't seen 'im at all. Don't know where he is – sorry." He paused for a moment in thought. "He'd be in a bar this early in the day?"

"Well, he didn't get to go to the bar _last night_ since we were over at Fagin's – as you already know – so I suppose that a bar would be where he is now."

Jack slowly shook his head trying hard to think.

Nancy interrupted his thoughts, "Say, why are you out working on Christmas day? And also, where'd you get that black eye?"

"Charlie," was all the Dodger answered.

"Charlie what?" Nancy was confused.

"Charlie gave me the black eye, so Fagin's punishing us by making us work t'day. It's Charlie's fault."

"Why'd he give you a black eye?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"Umm… we 'ad a small dis'greement."

"I've never known you two boys to throw punches at each other…"

"It's a long story," the Dodger cut in. Grimacing at the sandwich he was eating, he threw the remains of it to the side of the street.

Nancy, noting his actions, spoke, "You wouldn't want to come over to lunch by any chance, would you? I am sure it would brighten Guinevere's day…," she said the last part very sure that this would help the Dodger in deciding.

"If it ain't any trouble…"

"You know what people always answer that question with, 'it's no trouble at all'!" she looped her arm through his and walked him in the direction of their apartment.

Once they were a block away, they heard a scream. Nancy and the Dodger stopped dead in their tracks and stared at each other in shock and confusion. After a moment they heard several cries of "Help!" and then another scream.

Bill was gone and he was probably drunk. Putting two and two together, Nancy and Dodger started at a full-speed run towards her apartment.

----

Charlie giving in to his nerves, yelled, "Help! HELP!" This did not 'help', it just made things worse. Bill grabbed Charlie's coat and lifted him off the ground.

"Yer gonna pay for 'at! I'll make sure o' 'at!" He dug the gun into Charlie's hair, knocking off his hat.

At that movement, Guinevere screamed again. She was in a corner of the room crying and hugging herself. "Daddy! PLEEAASE! Don't 'urt 'im!"

Bill let go of Charlie causing him to hit the floor. He turned to Guinevere. "Why don't yer shut up for a change?!! Yer gettin' as bad as yer mother!"

Guinevere cried harder.

Turning back to face Charlie, Bill pointed the gun towards him again. Charlie heard the gun click, and there was a loud bang and then a thud. Guinevere screamed, Charlie moaned in pain, and Bill lied on the floor, unconscious.

The Dodger ran over to Charlie, who was hugging his left thigh in pain as it gushed blood. Nancy ran over to Guinevere and hugged her tightly before also approaching Charlie.

"Charlie… Charlie, are you alright?!" the Dodger asked extremely alarmed. Charlie was breathing rapidly. Nancy knelt over the wound in his leg. Charlie nodded trying to get the message across that he was okay. Glancing over to Guinevere he mumbled something.

"What, Charlie?" the Dodger asked.

"Guinevere… she's in need of… some comfor-" he winced in pain as Nancy dabbed some rubbing alcohol on his injury.

The Dodger, getting the message, walked over to Guinevere who threw herself into his arms, crying. The Dodger hugged her tightly. He whispered what he hoped were some comforting words.

"What – what happened?" Charlie asked Nancy.

"You mean when you got shot?" she asked softly so as not to further induce Guinevere to tears.

Charlie nodded.

"I ran into the Dodger in town, so I invited him over for lunch. Upon heading back, we heard screams and yells for help, so we ran here. After guessing what was going on, we worked out a quick plan. I threw a rock to hit Bill in the head and the Dodger hurled himself _at_ Bill to at least redirect the shot he was aiming at you – that's how you got shot in the leg instead of your head!"

Charlie nodded and winced in pain. Glancing over at Guinevere and the Dodger, Charlie asked his next question, "Do you think… Guinevere 'll be… alright?"

"I sure hope so," Nancy answered and gave a concerned look towards a clingy, weeping Guinevere.

**There you go! I feel like crying, screaming, and hugging someone now. That was a little too intense for me (which is how I like it)! Well, please REVIEW!**


	28. What Friends Are For

**Hello! That last chapter was a bit intense! Well, this one is much calmer. Thanks again to all my reviewers! Everyone (in case you didn't notice), I have reached ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS!!!! Thanks! Here's the next installment!**

**Chapter 28: What Friends Are For**

Upon closer examination, it was decided that Charley's bullet-wound was probably not fatal. Nancy removed the bullet, cleaned the wound, and announced that it was "the best she could do." Having decided that Bill was a little unsafe that night, Nancy suggested that she "handle" Bill and that the Dodger, Guinevere, and Charley all head over to Fagin's.

They winded through a number of alleys to avoid being noticed. The Dodger supported Charley with one of his arms and Guinevere (who was still quite distressed) with his other. However, walking up the stairs in Fagin's apartment proved to be even more difficult. It was decided that Guinevere, who was now somewhat recovered, would take one side of Charley while the Dodger would take the other. The fact that they had no candlelight made them extremely noisy, and Fagin quickly interrupted their progress by coming down the stairs to investigate.

The candle Fagin was carrying afforded him a look that was somewhat shocking. Guinevere's eyes were red and puffy, the Dodger had a bit of blood on him, and Charley (who was the cause of the blood that the Dodger was displaying) had a bunch of blood-stained fabric wrapped around his left thigh which was slightly bare because Nancy had ripped his pants to better access the wound.

"What happened, my dears?!"

Charley couldn't help but grin at the look on the old Jew's face. It was so comical. He let out a small giggle.

"What happened?!" Fagin repeated more urgently.

This time, the Dodger attempted a quick, but direct answer. "Charley visited Guinevere, Bill showed up, and Bill shot Charley."

Fagin just stared in shock at the three of them.

Charley's face was quickly contorting from a look of mirth into a look of pain. Guinevere, glancing at Charley, spoke. "I think 'at we need ta' get Charley upstairs so's he can sit down."

Fagin nodded and led their way, carrying a candle.

Once they were upstairs, Guinevere led Charley over to a chair, and the Dodger led Fagin off into another room so that he could relay the events of the day in a more detail.

Guinevere started bustling about, trying to get Charley more comfortable.

"I'm just fine," Charley protested. "_You_ are the one who should be having a lie-down!"

"Nonsense! _You_'re the one who's injured." She stopped her frenzy to rest Charley's leg on the chair next to him. Looking at him, she shook her head. "You REALLY should be sitting in a _bed_!"

Charley just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and I really should get ta' laundering your clothes! You've got blood on your shirt AND your coat!" she pulled at his jacket to remove it. She stopped and stared at him for a moment, "You'll need a blanket! What am I thinking? You're probably _freezing_!" She rushed off to find a blanket, leaving Charley to gape and stare after her. He shook his head slowly. Why in the world would a leg injury make him _cold_?

Guinevere reappeared carrying _two_ blankets. "This one is thick,"she pointed to one, "but this one is a bit thinner," she pointed at the other. "I brought both just in case you got a bit _too warm_ and wanted a thinner one." She set the blankets on the table in front of Charley and resumed her removal of his coat and shirt. "I 'ope that this blood comes out! It would be a shame if you had to get a completely new coat…" she rambled on for a few more minutes, then, after wrapping Charley in a blanket, left to find a washbasin and some soap.

The Dodger came out of a nearby room, closely followed by Fagin. They both approached Charley. Once they were close by him, they stared.

"What?!" Charley asked confusedly.

"We want ta' know," began the Dodger, "_why_ Bill shot you. Make it quick, Guinevere will probably be back any minute!"

"You know Bill!" Charley said, barely holding in a giggle. "He'll shoot if you sit wrong!"

"Why did he shoot _you_, _this_ time, my dear?" Fagin questioned.

"There's a piece to this puzzle that's just plain missin'!" suggested the Dodger.

"Well…," Charley stared at the floor for a moment, "I, umm, kinda got too close to Guinevere – closer than Bill likes…"

The Dodger glared at him for a moment and started to speak, but Guinevere entered carrying a washbasin. Bestowing a smile upon Charley, she began to scrub the blood out of his coat. The Dodger, observing the way she looked at Charley, just shook his head and turned to head upstairs.

"Hey, Dodge!" Charley called after him. The Dodger stopped and looked back at Charley. "Sorry about dragging you into everything!" he smiled wildly at the Dodger.

Jack looked down at his feet. He shook his head and smiled. "Well, if I didn't get involved, we'd be in a worse spot." He looked over at Charley and, with a serious countenance, made his next remark, "What would we do without you, Charley?" He smiled weakly, turned, and continued on his way up the stairs.

Charley stared after him in wonder. _He almost looked like he was going to cry – if that's possible! It was probably just a trick of the light._ Charley shook his head and redirected his attention to Guinevere.

----

Once the Dodger reached the top of the stairs, he walked over to his bed and sat down. A single, hot tear streaked down his slightly dirty face. He smiled and shook his head. How could he be so selfish? _You've got the best friend in th' world, what more could you want? He 'as a girl that loves 'im and if you really were his best friend, you'd be 'appy for 'im instead of tryin' to get 'er for yourself!_ He thought for a moment. _I am 'appy for 'im._ Another tear streaked down his face. He had a friend. An honest, kind friend. An image of two people presented itself in his mind. _No. I have _two_ friends. Two of the best friends I could ever have. Charley AND Guinevere._

He got up determinedly, and headed for a washbasin. Cleaning off the grime, he thought of all the things he needed to do. _Charley __can't work…_ _an' Guinevere don't even work for Fagin… we'll need more pickpockets._ Mentally writing up a to-do list, he finished making himself presentable and then headed back downstairs. After announcing to the others that he was "going to work", he headed off, leaving Fagin, Charley, and Guinevere all to gape after him in wonder. How could he go to work after all the horrible events of the day?

**Thanks for reading! Please review:D**


	29. They're Miniature Pickpockets

**Hello reviewers! Thanks for all your reviews! I love you guys!**

**Chapter 29: They're Miniature Pickpockets!**

The Dodger winded his way through alleys and through market crowds. He was watching everyone and everything intently. Quickly seeing the one thing he was looking for, he walked towards it. Resting one hand on the young pickpocket's shoulder and putting his index finger of his other hand against his lips in a signal of "quiet", he let the young boy know that he was aware of his pocket-picking. The blond-haired boy looked up at him in shock and fear. The Dodger motioned him off to an alley.

Once they were out of earshot of others, he turned to the boy and addressed him. "'Ello, my covey. Out and about trying to make your fortune?"

The boy nodded. There were unshed tears resting in his eyes.

"I ain't gonna turn you in – I got a proposition for you. I know someone who'll give you food and lodgings if you'll let 'im make a profit off you." He stared intently at the boy, anxiously awaiting his answer.

The boy stared back at him in amazement. Finally opening his mouth to speak, he said, "My names Johnny… I-I'll work for you."

The Dodger nodded and smiled.

He continued to do this the rest of the afternoon and a little into the evening. He would observe a crowd, see a young pickpocket, confront them, and offer them a job. His system was highly successful, and when he arrived home that night, five new pickpockets were trailing after him.

The Dodger entered Fagin's followed by his hopeful job-applicants. He led them all up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Charley was resting on a mattress that Fagin and Guinevere had moved downstairs for the night so Charley wouldn't have to make the laborious trip upstairs, Guinevere was sitting next to him, and Fagin was in the process of cooking dinner. They all stared in bewilderment at the crowd that had entered their living-quarters.

The Dodger ran through the introductions. He first told the new pickpockets his associates' names to help them feel a little more at ease. He then listed off all the names of his pickpockets, pointing at each one as he said their name. "This is Sam, Johnny, Chelsea, Annabel, and Thaddeus." Thaddeus waved excitedly, Annabel did a small curtsy, and the other three gave nervous smiles. They all were in the range of six to eleven years of age.

Charley was the first to react to the introduction. "Hello!" He turned and addressed Fagin, "You'll need to cook a bit more food tonight, I think! Hahaha!"

The girl named Annabel walked tentatively over to Charley and smiled. "What happened to your leg?" Her blue eyes were wide and curious. She looked to be about six-years-old.

Charley glanced nervously at Guinevere while searching his brain for a good answer to the question. "Umm… I… fell over," he answered in desperation.

The Dodger was staring at him and shaking his head as though he was brain-dead. Charley sent a slightly comical look back to him that said, 'If you're so smart, how come you didn't answer it for me?'

Annabel sat down next to Charley. "Does it hurt? When I get an owie it _always_ hurts. 'Company's the best cure' – that's what my gramma says." She nodded pointedly at Charley.

Charley began to laugh. "It does hurt a bit… but it'll get better!"

Thaddeus and Johnny were now wandering around the room, looking at trinkets. Sam had wandered over to Fagin to see what it was that he was cooking. Chelsea just stood close by the Dodger, shifting from one foot to the next. After a moment, she turned to him, and tugged on his coat-sleeve.

"What?" the Dodger asked, leaning down towards her.

"I hafta go to the bathroom," the girl whispered softly and then blushed.

Nodding twice so that she knew he understood, the Dodger took her hand and led her to the privy.

"So, Sam, my dear," Fagin addressed the boy who was staring intently at the food he was cooking, "How old are you?"

"Eleven," he answered proudly. "In August I'll be twelve."

Fagin smiled and shook his head. August was eight months away and the boy was already talking like it was just around the corner.

The evening past relatively quickly. Chelsea was extremely shy and mostly stared at the group. Johnny, who was quiet most of the time, soon proved that his quietness was because he was "a thinker". Sam was extremely curious and, by the end of the evening, had wandered into Fagin's room and gotten into more mischief than was good for him. Thaddeus was a talkative child who wasn't afraid to say anything. Annabel was just plain sweet. She spent most of the evening sitting near Charley or on his uninjured right thigh where she would entertain Charley with stories about Ireland, her homeland.

After dinner, they played "the game" together. They all took turns being the victim of thievery and even Chelsea was laughing with enjoyment by the second time through.

When it came to "bed time", Sam and Thaddeus protested, Johnny and Chelsea went without complaint, and Annabel begged to be allowed keep Charley company. The Dodger carried Sam and Thaddeus up the stairs while Fagin lectured them on "proper behavior" and what was "expected of them". Johnny and Chelsea trailed behind them, Johnny commenting on their "embrassing havior". Annabel, having gotten her wish, settled down with Charley under a blanket. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she wished him "sweet dreams", and snuggled up to him.

The Dodger walked into the kitchen and yawned. "'Night Guinevere, 'night Fagin… I'm going ta' sleep."

"No, my dear, I'm afraid not. There are many dishes that must be seen to. Guinevere and I could use your help," he pointed towards the mountainous stack of dishes.

The Dodger groaned and walked over to join in the work. How had a household of three people turned into a household of nine in just one day?

**Well, that was different. Please review. (I promise that it'll get more interesting soon. I had to include this chapter as important knowledge). Again, REVIEW!**


	30. Work Ain't Always Good

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this except for the story line and the characters: Guinevere, Thaddeus, Annabel, Sam, Johnny, and Chelsea. So there! And I am also no Charles Dickens (even though I like to think that I am)! **

**Here's chapter thirty!!!! Wow! It's kinda (definitely) short – sorry! Again, thanks to my loverly reviewers (hugs and kisses for all of you!) Now, READ!!**

**Chapter 30: Work Ain't Always Good**

The next morning, the Dodger woke up before everyone else, and headed off to work without any breakfast. They were going to be down on money fast; more pickpockets meant more mouths to feed. Hopefully, the money for the goods that the pickpockets got would make up for the sudden expenses.

He walked into town and stopped at a stand where he actually _paid_ for an apple and some bread. Biting into the apple, he planned his workday.

Once he finished the apple and the bread, Jack walked quickly down an alley and, entering a busier street, joined the crowds that were outside a theatre. Seeing a small knot of wealthy ladies being escorted by a gentleman, he made for them. There were jewels glittering on their wrists and necks. One lady, having turned to pay attention to a gentleman, who was begging her attention, had left her purse unattended in her carriage. The Dodger, looking right, then left, made for it. Grabbing the hand-beaded purse, he stuffed it into one of his large coat pockets. Glancing nonchalantly around, he walked towards the door of the theatre.

A man, who was wearing a velvet vest and silk overcoat, was accepting money at the door of the theatre, before allowing the patrons to enter. The Dodger noticed that there was a box he was holding that the people would put their admission money in. The man, putting the box down, turned to say a word to one of the patrons who obviously knew him well. Seeing his chance, the Dodger reached into the box and shoved the coins and bills into his pockets. Turning calmly, he walked back down the alley he had exited, and towards another part of town. When he was about a block away, he heard the cries go up; "Theif! Theif! Which way did he go! Police, THEIF!" Jack shook his head; he wasn't going to play their game. He was out of sight; he wasn't going to run. He had expected their excitement; the things he had stolen would and had been missed very quickly.

Taking a deep breath, he remained calm and pretended that he was just as innocent as the meat salesman on his left. Some traps, followed by a crowd, ran past him, yelling and screaming and down a street to his right. Calmly looking at some books on a nearby stand, he made his next plan of attack.

After a moment, he approached a young gentleman who was standing by a shop looking at some shoes in a window. Checking to make sure that he wasn't being watched, he tried the gentleman's pocket. Finding a wallet, he pulled it out and glanced at it, before placing it in his own pocket. Turning, he bumped right into someone. Too shocked and afraid to apologize for his rudeness, he turned to his left only to find someone putting a firm grip on his wrists. The Dodger's mouth gaped open in surprise.

"Got 'em?" the gentleman who's pocket he'd picked a moment ago asked.

"Yep! Thanks for your help sonny! We've been trying to catch this one for a looong time!" the police officer glared at the Dodger.

The Dodger glared back at the trap with all his might. "This ain't fair! My attorney 'll 'ave something to say about this! I neve-"

A second trap chuckled. "Sonny, you done more 'an most have done in their lifetime – but we're putting a stop to that and there's nothing you can do about it!"

The Artful Dodger opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted.

"You have the right to remain _silent_! We don't wanna hear a word out of you!" The police officer nodded firmly. Snapping handcuffs around the Dodger's wrists, they dragged him through the streets. No matter what warnings the police officers gave him, the Dodger kept protesting.

They soon arrived at a jail where the traps unceremoniously locked Jack in. He gave their retreating figures one last glare and slumped against the wall in anger and desperation.

**Poor Jack/Dodger! He is feeling more and more like "Jack Dawkins" and less like "The Artful Dodger" the more I write about him! I think that when you write about a character, you learn a lot about them as you go. I am learning a lot. Enough of my deep thinking, you need to REVIEW!**


	31. The Search Begins

**Hey peoples! Thank you for all the reviews! And now, you may proceed to read!**

**Chapter 31: The Search Begins**

That night, when Guinevere, Sam, Thaddeus, Johnny, Chelsea, and Annabel arrived home, they didn't suspect that anything had happened to the Dodger. Everyone sat around the table and ate dinner, assuming that he was working late even though he had started early.

After dinner, Sam, Thaddeus, and Chelsea played "the game" together (Sam always getting his way and playing the victim). Charley and Guinevere played cards with Johnny. Fagin, of course, washed dishes – luckily, Annabel had offered to help him.

Once "the children" were in bed, Guinevere and Fagin joined Charley in the den.

"I'm starting to worry, Fagin. Dodge's almost never out this late," Charley commented. Guinevere and Fagin nodded their agreement.

"Maybe he went to a bar…," Guinevere suggested.

"No, my dear, I don't think so. It's not like the Dodger to just skip dinner and not tell anyone where he's going… There has to be another reason…" Fagin stared thoughtfully at the fire. None of them spoke for a while. Their thoughts couldn't help but stray to the possibility that he might have been caught.

Charley suddenly stood up; he wobbled a little because of his injured leg. "I'm going to go look for him!"

"Charley…," Guinevere spoke, "your still recov'ring… you can't jus' go walking all over town…"

"I'll be fine! Besides I am _sick_ of being stuck inside because of my injury! Who knows where the Dodger is?! He could be in trouble! I am NOT staying here and leaving him to fend for himself!"

Guinevere and Fagin stared in shock at the reaction that Charley had had. Neither of them had ever seen him react so violently to anyone or anything.

"Charley, my dear…" Fagin started, but Charley interrupted him.

"And," Charley giggled, "I am _terribly_ moody from being inside all day!" He grinned at them both.

Guinevere shook her head in disbelief. _Leave it to Charley to be angry for all of about five seconds!_

"But," Charley put on a serious look, "I am _still_ going out there to find him!" Turning quickly, he limped over to the door and exited through it.

Fagin and Guinevere looked at each other for a moment, then both spoke at the same time.

"I'm going with 'im."

"I'll get your coat, my dear."

They didn't give each other a second glance. Fagin helped Guinevere into her coat and she headed purposefully after Charley.

He was already a good bit ahead of her. She ran to catch up with him.

Charley smiled. "What took you so long?"

She smiled back at him. He grasped her hand and they headed off to The Three Cripples, hoping that someone there might have some information.

When they arrived, Charley told Guinevere to wait outside for him and he headed in alone.

Guinevere stared up at the sky. It was starting to snow again. She shivered slightly and held her coat tighter. A blacksmith who was always in town while Guinevere worked walked by and tipped his hat at her. Guinevere smiled and waved. She blushed slightly, adding to the rosy color that was already in her cheeks because of the cold. He was wearing a thick overcoat and had obviously taken a bath, but all she saw was the sweaty, greasy, muscular blacksmith.

"Hey!" Charley said poking her.

"What?" she looked confusedly at Charley; for a moment, she had been sure it was the blacksmith, back to sweep her off to ecstasy.

"I've been trying to get your attention for quite a while… What were you thinking about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," she answered defensively. "What'd the barman say?"

Charley grinned and decided that she must have been having some daydream about him. After thinking this lovely thought for a moment, he put on a more serious look and answered her question. "He said he didn't know a thing! The Dodger hasn't been in there once! You didn't see him at all today while you were working, did you?"

"No," Guinevere answered, her brow furrowed. "I didn't see him _anywhere_. Maybe he wasn't working on any of his usual streets?" she suggested.

Charley shrugged and, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, headed in another direction. "It's all my fault!" he finally said looking down at the snow-covered street.

"What? It can't be! You 'ave nothing ta' do with it!"

"Well, if I'd gone to work with him like usual, at least _I_ would know where he was."

Guinevere stopped in her tracks and turned to face Charley. "I'm glad that you weren't with 'im! As much as I _am_ worried about _the Dodger_, I'd be a lot more worried if _you_ were the one that disappeared." He eyes took on a slightly watery shine as she thought of her Charley being caught.

Charley hugged her to him. "I don't think that you need to be worrying about that – not that it's something impossible, but it's not what's important right now." He pulled back from her a little bit so that he could look her in her eyes. "The Dodger's out there – somewhere – and _he _needs us! Now let's go out and find him!"

Guinevere smiled, sniffed, and nodded. After blowing her nose on the handkerchief that Charley offered her, they headed on to continue the search for their beloved friend.

**I got a little misty writing that! I am just as worried about the Dodger as they are (and I already know where he is!). Well, anyway, REVIEW! (You know you wanna!)**


	32. In A Cell, There Dwelled A Pickpocket

**Hello all! Sorry about the long wait! Arg! It's a short chapter again! I would like to say thanks to two reviewers in particular. Firstly, Red-Cherry-Flowers, who has left wonderfully encouraging (and funny) reviews- thank you!!! And secondly, Broken Amethyst, who reviews on a regular basis (always a good thing)! She continues to be reliable no matter what – thanks! On with it then! Here's chapter thirty-two! Lights, camera, ACTION!**

**Chapter 32: In A Cell, There Dwelled A Pickpocket…**

The Artful Dodger stared at the cell wall. He had already been staring at it for an hour. He couldn't stop thinking about the world outside the cell walls. His friends were out there and they probably didn't even know that he was in a jail. Caught. Captured. Never to get out. No! He would get out! He shook his head and stared at the floor between his feet. How would he ever get out?

There was a loud clang that brought him out of his thoughts. A guard had opened the door and let someone into his cell. The Dodger didn't look up. He didn't even move. He stayed seated on the ground and decided to study the shoes of the other prisoner that had been let in. The guard locked the cell door and walked down the hallway. The Dodger listened until the echoes of his retreating footsteps faded into nothing. Finally, he looked up.

Standing before him was a good-natured man in his early twenties. He was clean-cut and smiling down at the Dodger. The Dodger stared back in a non-plused manner before again staring down at the ground. The other prisoner was not daunted. To the Dodger's surprise, the man began to talk.

"Hello! My name is Jem. Well, actually, my name is _Jeremiah_, but my friends call me Jem." He squatted down, so that he was at the Dodger's eye level and put out his hand.

The Dodger stared for a moment. He finally accepted Jem's hand and shook it.

"M' name's The Artful Dodger – my friends call me Dodger for short." He met Jem's eyes, then dropped his gaze back to the floor.

"Happy to meet you, Dodger! Well, actually, not happy. You see, if I meet someone, it means that they're in jail (which doesn't happen to be the best place for anyone). Better that I didn't meet you and that you were still out and about in the real world." Jem smiled kindly.

Jack smiled up at him. Meeting Jem's gaze, he held it for a moment.

"So… how long you got here?" Jem asked.

"Umm… I don't know… I 'aven't even been tried or an'thing… just got thrown in here…" the Dodger's voice faded into nothing.

Jem nodded. "Sometimes they do that. You'll probably get your trial in a few days… they're just storing you until their ready to take a closer look at the case," Jem commented. "Pray to God that you'll be proven 'not guilty'."

"What are you here for?" Jack asked.

"I got caught for stealing." Jem looked down at his feet before looking back at the Dodger. "I got into the habit about five years ago. Money was low in the family." He started to pace around the cell as he told his story. "My father and mother had just been taken to be with the Lord up in heaven leaving my sister and I to fend for ourselves. My sister had to forget about her education and I had to get a job. Luckily, our parents left us enough money to rent an apartment. I found a job working at a clock shop. Mr. Brogan, the owner of the shop, taught me about clock mechanics. I worked at repairing and making clocks. My sister and I were soon able to buy a small home. About three months after we bought it, Mr. Brogan died and his shop was closed down. I lost my job, of course. My sister found a job working in a dress shop and a few weeks later, I found one working at a printing press. Both our jobs paid very little. We knew we would have to sell our house soon. I began to worry and, on my way home from the printing press, I saw this lovely, gold candelabrum in a shop window. Thinking that it would be worth a good lot, I slipped into the shop and stole it. I told myself that stealing one thing wouldn't matter; my conscience, however, kept quoting the Good Book; 'Thou shalt not steal.' I promised myself that I wouldn't steal again. Then, my sister lost her job, we lost the house, and I lost my nerve. I took to stealing all kinds of things. I would steal before work, after work, and sometimes during work. I couldn't stop. I started doing it without hardly noticing, but someone else noticed; they turned me in – and rightly so. So now I am here and have been for around two years." He stared down at the Dodger and gave a grim smile.

Jack stared intently back at him. Bringing his gaze back to the ground, he spoke. "I'm 'ear for pickpocketing." His voice was hoarse.

Jem nodded understandingly.

Hoping to change the subject, Jack posed a question. "So, where were you when they brought me in here?"

"Oh, that," Jem smiled, "I was off doing a bit of work. It's something that they have some of the prisoners do. We all get together in this room, and break big rocks into smaller ones. It's really quite stimulating!" Jem said the last sentence very animatedly causing Jack to a laugh.

Jem and the Dodger shared all kinds of stories for the next few hours and Jack decided that it actually might not be so bad being in prison. The Dodger was just finishing telling a particularly funny story about Charley when two guards approached their cell and, opening the door, requested that "The Artful Dodger" step forward to be taken into court. The Dodger's face fell. Jem grinned encouragingly and gestured him to go. Jack smiled back nervously and then turned and walked down the long passageway with one guard on each side of him.

**Man, I hope that his trial goes well! Oh, wait! I already know what's going to happen! Ah, well! I can never seem to surprise myself! Oh, and see what I mean? It was short. Urg! Now, REVIEW!!**


	33. The Search Ends

**Hey everyone! This is chapter 33!!! I can't believe it! (Thirty-three is a special number to me 'cause I love hobbits! – if that doesn't make sense to you, then just read on and save yourself from a long explanation). Anyway, thanks reviewers! Here's the chapter:**

**Chapter 33: The Search Ends**

Charley and Guinevere were both frozen. They had been searching town and questioning people for hours. When they entered the kitchen, Fagin was still awake, sitting by the fire, drinking some whiskey. At the sound of their entrance, he got up and turned around, obviously hopeful that he would see the Artful Dodger standing before him. Charley and Guinevere had come back unaccompanied.

"No luck, my dears?" he asked, handing them each a cup of gin and water.

"Not a bit of it," Charley shuttered. Moving in front of the fire next to Guinevere, he went through the information he had received that night. "We first went to The Three Cripples; the barman didn't know a thing. We then went on to Nancy and Bill's. I went in alone because if Bill saw Guinevere, I knew that I wouldn't be able to go on without leaving her behind. Lucky for me, Bill wasn't there; Nancy said he was working tonight. Nancy informed me that as far as she knew, Bill hadn't heard anything about it, but she did say that there had been two arrests today - she didn't know who had been arrested though."

Guinevere now cut in on the conversation. "While Charley was at m' parent's 'ouse, I went ta' the Lucky Ladies Lounge (my mama found 'im 'ere once when he was upset – she never _did_ tell me what he was upset 'bout… said it was private.) Anyway, I didn't see 'im there, and no one even recognized 'is name or description; I guess he was only in 'ere 'at one time. Afterwards, I 'eaded off into town and wandered 'round 'ere. I didn't see 'im."

"That's when I met back up with her," Charley cut in. "We decided that our best hope was to go to the police station-"

"My dears!" Fagin cried in shock.

"Relax, Fagin. If we'd been caught, we wouldn't be here with you!" Guinevere pointed out, a smile momentarily playing across her face.

"When we got to the police station," Charley continued, "there was no one there! (I suppose that maybe Bill's housebreaking might not have gone as well as he hoped. Probably attracted some attention from the police!) We left the station and wandered around to a few other places before coming back here empty-handed."

Fagin, Guinevere, and Charley stared at each other in silence.

After a moment, Fagin spoke. "I suppose that the newspapers will tell, my dears… that's what we're waiting on…" he rocked himself back and forth in silence, holding his mug close to him.

"I hate not knowing what's 'appened! Then again, I'm not sure I want ta' know…" Guinevere voiced all their opinions.

Charley put his arm around Guinevere as they sat before the fire. Fagin continued to rock himself back and forth. None of them would sleep much tonight.

----

The next day, Fagin, Charley, and Guinevere all put on happy faces for the children. None of them felt well today. Between the worry and their loss of sleep, they were all in melancholy moods.

"Where's the Dodger?" Sam questioned. He was so rude about it that they were sure he suspected something.

"Bed," responded Fagin promptly.

"No he's not! _We_ just came from bed and he wasn't there!" Sam commented.

Fagin glared at Sam and didn't respond this time. Guinevere's physical and emotional exhaustion was having quite an affect on her. Charley noticed that her lips were trembling and that her jaw was tensed. She quickly turned towards Fagin to 'help him with breakfast.' Charley shook his head. Putting on a cheerful smile, he attempted to change the subject. "Annabel, how did you sleep last night?"

"I slept very well," she answered and then winked at Charley. "I had a dream about you and Guinevere. Chelsea, Thaddeus, Johnny, Sam, and I were sitting on church pews in the middle of town. You stole a ring off someone who was walking by. Sam started to play his armpit and Guinevere walked over to you wearing this lovely dress. Fagin read wedding vows out of this huge book and you slipped the stolen ring on Guinevere's finger. You and Guinevere kissed, and we all had a party."

Guinevere and Charley shared amused looks and, for a moment, forgot their troubles.

"YUCK!!!" Sam and Thaddeus shouted.

Fagin rolled his eyes, stirred the porridge, and then began to pour it into bowls. Lucky for them all, Annabel's dream distracted all the children throughout breakfast.

After the children were finished eating, Fagin shooed them out to go to work. On her way out, Annabel motioned Charley towards her. He leaned over so that she could whisper in his ear. She held her hand up to her mouth shielding her lips from view. "I hope the Dodger's alright," she whispered.

Charley smiled and whispered back that she was "a very smart girl." Annabel smiled, turned, and then followed the other children as they headed off to work.

Charley, Guinevere, and Fagin all gathered around the table to eat their breakfast. Charley played with his food. Fagin spooned up some porridge, blew on it, dropped it back into his bowl, and repeated the process with another spoonful. Guinevere stared at both of them. After a moment, she stood up, announced that she would "be back in a minute", and exited the room.

When she returned, she was carrying a newspaper. Unfolding it pointedly in front of Charley and Fagin, she looked at the front page. In big, bold letters were the words: **IRELAND ILLNESS KILLS FIVE**. Skimming further down the page, her eyes lighted on what she was waiting for; it was an article entitled: **FAMOUS PICKPOCKET GETS TEN YEARS**. She stared at it for a moment. Charley and Fagin stared at her watching her every move. Finally, she got up the courage to read some of the article. Her eyes picked out specific words. _Famous pickpocket… caught… known as "The Artful Dodger"… ten years…_ She saw a sketch of the Artful Dodger wearing his top hat. Her hand shook a little. Folding up the paper, she set it down next to her plate, hesitated for a moment, and then burst into tears.

Charley grabbed the paper and unfolded it recklessly. His eyes lighted on the article Guinevere had skimmed. He breathed out and passed the paper to Fagin. Fagin took the paper, but didn't look at it. Charley sat still as stone, doing the best to control his emotions.

**Phew! I am "emotionally exhausted and immorally bankrupt" – sorry, you have to watch MASH to understand that. Anyway, review.**


	34. Cell Life As It Should Never Be

**Hello everybody!!! Have you ever thought about how weird the word "everybody" is? I mean, "every" meaning "all the parts which compose a whole collection" and "body" meaning "the physical person". It's kind of like you're saying "all the parts which compose a whole collection of the physical person…." That's weird, isn't it? Anyway, thanks reviewers and here is chapter thirty-four!**

**Chapter 34: Cell-Life As It Should Never Be**

When the Artful Dodger returned from the trial, he was in a terrible mood. After fighting with the guards, being shoved into his cell and locked in, yelling after the retreating guards, and glaring at Jem, he threw himself angrily down onto the cell floor.

Jem didn't even stare. He knew what the Dodger's actions meant. Jeremiah tried his best to be understanding and just ignore him, but it was difficult. After a moment of sitting on the ground and looking dejected, the Dodger stood up and kicked the wall. Finding that kicking the wall caused immense pain, he started cursing.

Jem's mouth dropped open in shock. He knew that the Dodger was a hardened criminal, but he hadn't even heard most of the words that the Dodger was voicing. All Jem knew was that they weren't good words at all.

The Dodger calmed down and then started to do something strange. He reached into one of his coat pockets, then another, then his pants pockets. Finding them all to be empty, he cursed under his breath and walked over to the cell door.

"Hey!" he called loudly. "HEY!"

One of the guards walked lazily over to him, taking his time to make sure that he drove the Dodger to the edge of his sanity.

"May I help you, young villain?" the guard asked gruffly.

"Yes, m' good sir," said the Dodger in mock-politeness. "It seems 'at when they removed some o' the things off my person, they took m' pipe and snuff-box – per'aps you could be so kind as ta' get 'em back for me?"

"Certainly," the guard answered shortly, then turned and walked down the passageway.

Jem watched all of this with immense curiosity. Still thinking that it would not be prudent to speak until spoken to, he remained silent.

The Dodger was now walking about the cell, looking quite pleased with himself. He smiled smartly and mentally relived the transaction afore explained.

He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of the guard coming back down the passageway. The Dodger calmly sauntered over to cell door.

The guard walked over, smiled, and set the Dodger's snuffbox and pipe outside the cell just out of his reach. The Dodger stared at the guard for a moment, not understanding his actions. The guard turned to head back down the passageway, but was stopped by a yell from the Dodger who was groping through the bars for his out-of-reach belongings.

"HEY!!! Where do you think your goin'?!"

The guard walked calmly back up the passageway and looked at the Dodger.

"I was just going back down the way. What is it to you?" The guard was acting much to polite and the Dodger's temper was becoming worse.

"I asked you to bring me my personal belongings!"

"And so I did."

"I can't even reach 'em!" the Dodger complained angrily.

"Oh, you mean you wanted to _use_ them?" the guard asked.

The Dodger looked at him in disbelief. "What do ya' think I wanted ta' do?!! YES, I WANTED TA' USE 'EM!"

The guard shook his head in mock-sadness. "I am sorry, but we are not permitted to let prisoners have such things for use-"

The Dodger cut him off by yelling a long string of cuss-words.

The guard shook his head and pointed out that "with that attitude, he wouldn't even be allowed to _look_ at his belongings." Calmly, the guard picked up the snuffbox and pipe, and made his way back down the passage.

The Dodger glared after him and yelled a few more cuss-words before turning to glare at his cell. His eyes then lighted on Jem, who was sitting on his cot, covering his ears.

The Dodger glare at Jem and then lied-down on his own cot. Guilt quickly began to set in. He had no reason to make Jem suffer. He liked Jem. Jem was his _friend_, not his enemy. The Artful Dodger decided to shake off the feelings and try to go to sleep, but his thoughts kept impeding on his intent.

----

Jem stared at the Dodger's motion-less form. Deciding that the excitement was probably over, he settled down as comfortably as he could on his cot and tried to sleep. He began to think about his sister, Adelaide. Memories of when they were young children flooded his head – they always did this when he was depressed. _Adelaide_. How he missed her! His eyes began to well up with tears.

----

The Dodger couldn't help but think about all the people who meant so much to him. His imagination presented each of them in vivid detail in his head. Charlie… Guinevere… Nancy… even Fagin. He missed them all. Tears rolled slowly down his cheek.

Both Jem and Jack each emitted a loud sniff.

Jem was shaken out of his thoughts by the loud sniff the Dodger had emitted. He slowly got up, tears still staining his own cheeks, and walked over to Jack. Putting a hand on Jacks shoulder, Jem spoke, "Dodge… you alright?"

Jack nodded stiffly and rolled over further so that his face was buried in the pillow. Jem could feel Jack shaking under his hand. Figuring that the Dodger was embarrassed by his unmanly behavior, Jem retreated towards his own bed. He had let the Dodger know that he was there for him. If he really wanted him, the Dodger knew that Jem was just a few steps away.

The Dodger shook with tears. A small, shaky sob escaped his lips and he prayed that the pillow muffled it so that Jem wouldn't hear. He wished he could have someone to comfort him, but another part of him rebelled and told him that he was being a horrible, wimp. Jem had offered his comfort just moments ago… why hadn't he taken it?

_Because I was 'orrible to 'im! Cursing and yelling! I didn't even apol'gize when I saw that it was bothering 'im!_

Guilt overwhelmed him, and he could feel a wail rising within him.

**Why do I get so emotionally involved in my chapters?!! Urg! Anyway, please REVIEW! PLEAE PAY ATTENTION TO THE FOLLOWING: Does anybody know what genre my story should be listed under besides romance? There are so many that I think it fits under! Any opinions?**


	35. A Day In The Life Of Two Criminals

**Hello reviewers (and readers who aren't reviewers)! Thank you all (I will take the time to list you all when I write my last chapter)! Here is the newest installment:**

**Chapter 35: A Day In The Life Of Two "Criminals"**

At the very first glimpse of the jail cell, memories of the previous day flooded back to Jack with a shocking force. His eyes and cheeks felt sticky and his pillow was damp. Attempting to breathe, he found that his nose was somewhat stuffy. All the remnants of his horrible night were still there to haunt him. Pulling out his handkerchief (the one thing that the traps had not confiscated), he blew his nose. Noticing a small basin of water, he walked over to it and attempted to wash the gunk off his face and from around his eyes.

Feeling a bit better, he focused on his growling stomach. He looked uneasily over at Jem, sure that his stomach would rouse him. However, to his relief, Jem slept on, uninterrupted.

Curious of what time it was, Jack began digging through his pockets. Quickly, he remembered the previous night; his pockets had been empty then, so they probably still were. Why did they have to take his pocket-watch? _Probably thought 'at I'd strangle someone 'ith the chain!_ Jack shook his head. He just wanted to know what time it was! He wasn't normally an early riser, but he was sure that it couldn't be any later than six-thirty in the morning.

His stomach growled loudly again. Jack saw, out of the corner of his eye, a sleepy Jem sit up. Jack turned and gave Jem an apologetic smile.

"Good morning," Jem said rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Jack in turn returned the "Good morning" and the yawn.

Jem got up slowly, stretched, and then worked to make himself presentable. Jack stood in the middle of the cell, feeling awkward. He had never given much thought to how strange it was waking up in the close vicinity of an acquaintance, hopelessly attempting to make conversation.

Jem dried his face with a towel that was there for the purpose, and turned to look at Jack. Jeremiah let out a low whistle and shook his head.

Jack looked down at his wrinkled clothing. "What?"

Jem smiled. "You slept in your clothes, didn't you?" he asked, already aware of the answer.

"Well, I don't 'ave anything else!" Jack pointed out.

Jem just shook his head. Walking over to a small trunk of belongings, he pulled out shaving creme and a blade. Jack watched with interest as Jem lathered his face over the washbasin and proceeded to shave.

"I thought we weren't allowed to 'ave sharp objects – or really ANY objects in 'ere," Jack commented.

"I've been here for almost two years, as you know. They concluded that with my record good behavior, it was only fair that I was permitted to have a few 'necessities'. This," he held the razor out for the Dodger to see, "is a gift from my sister, Adelaide."

"Does she ever visit you?" Jack asked hoping that he wasn't getting to personal.

"She did when I first was brought here, but I told her to focus on getting a job to pay for all the necessities of her own life. She got a job off in a small town about twenty miles away. She doesn't come around here much anymore – too long a trip."

Jack nodded.

"I miss her. It doesn't really bother me except for at night. When everything gets dark… life can just seem kind of lonely." Jem hoped that he was getting his point across to the Dodger. Attempting a glance, he saw Dodge nod his head slowly. Seeing this as a good sign, he continued, "But we can make the nights easier by remembering all the good things we have – like cell-mates!" Jem laughed at his last comment even though he meant it genuinely.

Jack smiled and laughed.

They remained silent for a few moments. Finally, Jack's stomach growled loudly.

Jack grinned sheepishly and Jem laughed delightedly, proclaiming that he "agreed completely."

"So… do we get food 'round 'ere?" Jack asked.

"Yep." He pulled out a pocket-watch and glanced at it. "Ah! They'll be bringing it around soon. It's almost seven o'clock!"

True to Jem's word, breakfast was brought around at seven. It wasn't anything fancy; in fact, it wasn't even like what Fagin cooked. There was a bowl of gruel, some dry meat, and a glass of water.

Jem received his serving graciously and thanked the guard for "the lovely array of delectables".

Jack took the food he was given with a disgusted look on his face. It looked horrible. Putting his nose closer to it, he breathed in. Finding that it didn't smell too bad, he used the utensils given him, and attempted to cut the meat. The fork seemed to bounce off the surface of the meat, while the knife sawed at the top layer. Putting the plate with the meat on it down on the floor, he used all his strength to cut off a bite. He glanced up at Jem who was smiling with amusement and chewing on a bit of his own meat. Jack shook his head and returned to "the battle of the meat." Finding the task to be nearly impossible, he plunged his fork into the meat and lifted it up to his mouth. After biting off a piece he chewed. And chewed some more.

"How do ya' chew this?" Jack asked in amazement, his mouth still full of the rubbery contents he had bit off.

Jem shook his head. "It is an acquired skill. I have been doing it for a while now, so I have the mouth muscle. You, however, are doing it your first time and probably find it to be quite exhausting. Am I right?"

"Yes!" Jack answered. After a moment, he swallowed hard and followed it up with a large gulp of water.

"Don't exhaust your water resources. If you take a sip that size after every bite, it won't last the whole meal!" Jem smiled and took another bite of his meat, chewing and swallowing it before Jack had a chance to respond.

"I don't get 'ow you do it…," Jack mumbled. Lifting a spoonful of gruel to his mouth, he inserted it and swallowed it almost right away. "The meat's impossible ta' chew, but the gruel… well… there really ain't anything in it that _needs_ chewing."

Jem laughed in reply.

Soon after they finished eating their breakfast, Jack and Jem were lead off by the guards to "the workroom." In this room, they did the task that had been explained before by Jem; breaking big rocks into smaller rocks. Jem was used to the work and, because of the large sledgehammers they used, had acquired a good deal of muscle. After fifteen minutes, the Dodger was already having trouble lifting his sledgehammer. He would lift it, drop it heavily down onto the rock, and gasp for breath before repeating the process.

Two hours later, the guards led them back to their cell where they were left to their own devices.

"My arms feel like they're sure ta' fall clean off!" Jack sighed and plopped down on his cot.

"Oh, they will," Jem commented with a devilish grin. "But don't worry; the food around here will make you grow five new ones to replace the two old ones!"

**Well, that was a bit more light-hearted chapter than the previous few! Well, you know what to do! REVIEW!**


	36. Sad Goodbyes And Happy Helloes

**Hello people! I am pleased to announce that Protego Totalum is back to reviewing!!!  And, of course, I would like to thank Red-Cherry-Flowers and Broken Amethyst! (Not just because they like my story, but because they leave helpful and encouraging reviews)! And thanks to Bet Dawkins-Lontail's Loyalty, ASGT and Kat Maximoff, Weasley Is Our Queen, and SirNotAppearingInThisShow! Was that all of you? I hope so! Umm… Warning: CharleyXGuinever mush… yeah. On with the show!**

**Chapter 36: Sad Good-byes And Happy Helloes**

"Charley!" Fagin cried, "Let Bill in, my dear, and light him up the stairs."

Charley, who was unaccustomed to letting people in, hadn't even noticed the loud pounding on the door. He was momentarily reminded of his friend, the Artful Dodger, who always used to answer the door. He slowly got up, lit a candle, and limped down the stairs, praying that Bill had been too drunk when he shot him to remember the event.

"Password!" Charley yelled through the door.

"Plumy and slam!" Bill growled back at him.

Charley tried to ignore his fear and opened the door.

"Fin'ly!" Bill said. "You'd think I 'ad all the time in the world!"

Charley was too scared to speak. Hoping that Bill wouldn't notice his limp, he led Bill up the stairs. Assuming that Bill wanted to talk to Fagin, Charley headed for the stairs that led up to his bedroom.

"Yeah!" Bill said addressing Charley. "You just better go on up an' get 'er!"

Charley stopped and turned in the direction of Fagin and Bill. "Get who?" he asked, even though he knew perfectly well whom Bill was talking about.

"Yer know right well who!" Bill growled back. "You an' Fagin have had 'er long enough!"

"Bill, my dear, it's only been a couple of days! I-"

"I don't care what yer got ta' say, she belongs with me an' 'er mother!"

Charley had already gone halfway up the stairs when he heard Bill's last remark. He ran the rest of the way up the stairs and found Guinevere grabbing her things and getting ready to leave.

She gave an apologetic smile up to Charley before continuing to grab her personal property.

Charley reached down and touched her shoulder. She straightened up and looked at him. Charley held his arms open in an invitation. She gave a weak smile and then allowed herself to be wrapped in his arms.

"I wish you didn't half to go…," Charley said softly, burying his nose in her hair.

"Well, Daddy's right. I live with 'im an' mamma. It's where I'm s'possed ta' be."

"I've gotten used to you being around… kinda liked it… a lot," Charley said hoping that he was getting the point across.

Guinevere pulled away from him and stuffed her things into her bag. She headed for the door that led to the stairs, but Charley grabbed her arm and pulled her to him again.

"Charley… I hafta go…," Guinevere said carefully.

A yell from Fagin proved her point.

Charley sighed with disappointment. Guinevere pulled back from him a little. After bestowing a kiss on his lips, she pulled the rest of the way away from Charley and headed down the stairs.

She could feel Charley staring at her, but she continued down the stairs without looking back.

"Here she is, Bill, my dear!" Fagin announced. "Where's Charley, Guinevere, my dear?"

"How should I know?" Guinevere shrugged, pretending not to care. She smiled at her father.

Bill gave an approving nod. "C'mon! Nance's home waitin'!"

Fagin led their way down the stairs, carrying a candle. After saying his good-byes, he walked back up the stairs and entered the kitchen.

Charley was staring out the window at Guinevere's retreating figure.

"She'll be back, my dear," Fagin pointed out. "She can visit. You can even work together."

Charley just nodded. He hoped Fagin was right. There was something inside him that was telling him that his last chance to see her had just been lost forever. He had tried to tell her, but the words just wouldn't come out. If only his thoughts could reach her. He could tell the world to her!

_I love you, Guinevere_.

----

Guinevere tried to keep her mind focused on her father; it was hard. Her mind kept wandering back to Charley. She chanced a look back; Bill noticed.

"What yer lookin' back for?" he asked roughly.

"I just keep feelin' like I forgot somethin'… left something important behind…" She was being perfectly honest with her father. She knew she had left something – well, _someone_ important behind.

Bill stared at her for a moment, shook his head, and then redirected his attention to the streets ahead.

"Nance's got lunch cookin'. Said it was lamb."

"Oh," was all Guinevere could say. Compared to Charley, her mother cooking lunch seemed very uninteresting. Guinevere could stand it no longer.

She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

"What?" Bill asked.

"I just remembered what I forgot! It'll only take a minute for me to get it! Go on ahead of me! I'll be back in no time! I can't believe I forgot it!" she tried to smile and laugh as though amazed at her forgetfulness. She turned and ran back towards Fagin's before Bill could come up with a good response.

Giving an oath, he turned and headed the rest of the way home mumbling to himself. "The girl's just like 'er mother!"

----

Guinevere wrenched Fagin's door open, ran up the stairs, and opened the next door. Upon entering, she looked around frantically. Her eyes lighted on Charley. He stared back at her in shock. She dropped her bag of belongings and made for him.

Fagin glanced over at them before heading off into another room.

Guinevere pulled Charley into a tight hug. After a moment, he relaxed into her arms.

"I'm sorry," Charley said suddenly.

"For what?" Guinevere confusedly pulled back from him enough to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry… for not telling you the first time…" Charlie began.

"Telling me the first time… What? Charley, you're not making any sense…"

"I'm sorry for not telling you that… I love you," Charley said.

Their hearts pounded against each other. Guinevere's mouth was open in shock. Once she recovered, Guinevere smiled.

"That's what I came to tell _you_!" She paused, trying to imbed the moment in her memory forever. "I love you, Charley."

Charley smiled and then pulled her tightly to him, pressing his lips against hers.

**I know the story is kind of depressing right now, but doesn't that last part at least make you feel kinda good? Maybe it's just me. Well, REVIEW!**


	37. One Year Anniversary

**Alrighty everyone, I forgot someone in the "thank the reviewers" list. I will now thank that person specifically: Thank you very, very much Elaine Dawkins!!! (Yes, I forgot my own sister!) She is the one who deserves the most thanks, so I will leave it at that and continue with the story.**

**Chapter 37: One-Year Anniversary**

The months passed surprisingly quickly. Occasionally someone was shot with guilt for not dreading every moment that the Dodger was gone, but the guilt, too, passed. They all were sad, but they knew they had to move on; so move-on they did. Charley and Fagin would tell the children fireside stories about the Artful Dodger's greatest accomplishments. To everyone, he was becoming a hero out of a tale; someone to look-up to and admire. Shy, little Chelsea was even brought into the spotlight as she told the tale of how on the first day of their meeting, the Dodger had taken her hand and led her to the privy. Even Sam and Thaddeus, with their immaturity and misbehavior, began to respect the Dodger; no one dared to put him down.

The seasons flew by, birthdays came and went; life went on. Everyone was surprised when it again reached the day of December 26th; the one-year anniversary of the Dodger's capture.

Charley, Guinevere, Fagin, and Nancy were all sitting around the dining room table. Charley repeatedly shuffling the deck of cards that once belonged to the Dodger, Guinevere staring at Charley's actions. Fagin and Nancy had just finished the usual conversation consisting of money, drinks, and Bill.

Fagin handed her the requested money. He picked up the book that he used to keep track of their money and entered the amount on a page. After doing the math, he stared at the paper for a moment. He turned to Nancy. "What day is it, today, my dear?"

"It's December 26th. How could you forget, Fagin? It's the day after _Christmas_!"

"I didn't forget, my dear," Fagin sighed and replace the book into the drawer.

Charley mouthed the words, _December twenty-sixth…_ He dropped the cards onto the table and his eyes grew wide. "The Dodger," was all that he could say.

"What?" Nancy asked.

"He's been in jail for a year now. This very day last year he was taken by the traps," Fagin answered.

Nancy nodded.

"Sure 'ould be nice ta' visit 'im…," Guinevere pointed out.

"It's not safe, my dears. Charley had a close one with the traps just last week; we can't risk it, not even under normal circumstances."

"Oh, Fagin," Nancy spoke, "I do wish you'd allow them to go down there just once. I-"

"Nancy, my dear, you know as well as I do that it's not safe! And," he paused, "Bill won't allow Guinevere to go down there (which I think he is right in doing), so why should Charley be allowed? I won't allow them to risk their lives to see someone who probably has forgotten them! Forgotten everything they ever did for him!" Fagin's eyes glowed and bulged wildly. He looked at Nancy, Guinevere, and Charley in turn and then exited the room.

"I think you hit a nerve!" Charley said to Nancy, chuckling slightly.

Guinevere glared at Charley, immediately silencing him, but leaving him with the trace of a smile. "What if Fagin's right, Charley?! What if the Dodger has forgotten us all?!"

Charley sobered. "He hasn't forgotten _me_! I know he hasn't! Don't even think it!"

"And so you think he forgot _me_?!" Guinevere asked, her voice growing louder and higher. "I'll have you know that he kissed me before you ever did! That's right! He _kissed_ me! In town! On the job! And it wasn't a short kiss either! And it was really good, too!" She crossed her arms defiantly and stared determinedly in the opposite direction of Charley.

Nancy stared on in fascination. It was her business after all; it concerned _her_ daughter.

"How come you never told me?" Charley asked, gaping at her.

"I didn't think it mattered," Guinevere said shortly.

Charley tried to put the controversial subject aside; he focused on the more important issue. "When I said that he hadn't forgotten _me_, I simply meant what I said; that he didn't forget me. I didn't mean to imply that he had forgotten you or Fagin or anybody else."

"I know what you meant," Guinevere said simply continuing to stare in the opposite direction.

"Alright then…," Nancy broke in, "Guinevere, we need to be heading back; Bill's waiting."

Charley got up and lit a candle in preparation for leading them down the stairs. Nancy and Guinevere put on their coats and hats before allowing themselves to be guided to the door.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Guinevere turned to Charley and gave him a short kiss on the cheek.

"'Bye!" Charley addressed them both.

"Goodbye!" Nancy and Guinevere said in unison.

Charley watched them walk off for a minute before closing the door.

----

Jack and Jem were playing cards in their cell. Jem, who was becoming very skilled at poker under the Dodger's careful instruction, had nearly beat the Dodger in the previous game. Each game became more and more intense; the guards had slowly been gathered around their cell as the game progressed.

Jem laid his cards down on the makeshift table with a grin on his face. "Straight flush!"

Jack slapped his cards face-up onto the table, displaying his hand (four of a kind), before looking up to grin proudly at Jem. "See," he spoke to the cheering guards as he pointed at Jem, "I taught 'im that!" He beamed proudly back at Jem. "Now," the Dodger took on an elegant seriousness, "I'm gonna kick your behind in _this_ game!"

"Ooooo!" Jem said tauntingly. He yawned ostentatiously. "I just might be too tired!"

"Oh, no you're not!" The Dodger shuffled the cards playfully, working in a few card tricks as he did so.

The game went on much in the same way the previous one had; there was joking, bluffing, cheating, and laughing.

"I'll raise ya' two pounds…" Dodger said slowly flicking the chips into the pile accumulating at the center of the makeshift table.

Jem stared for a moment, shuffled his cards uneasily in his hand, and then made a "play" that was completely unexpected – he threw up.

Jack stared at him in shock and concern. The guards looked nervously at them before scurrying off to the ordinary posts.

"What-" Jack started to ask.

"I'm sorry!" Jem interrupted, wiping his mouth on his handkerchief. "I skittled my biscuits! Didn't expect that, really… umm… I'll clean it up then." He turned around looking for the proper accoutrements.

Jack, still in shock, walked over towards the cell door to request some help when he heard a thud behind him. Turning back to face Jem, he found that his companion was lying on the ground, passed out, with sweat beading up on his forehead.

**That last part was kind of gross… sorry! As Jem said, he didn't mean to "skittle" his "biscuits". You'll have to excuse this rather gross part because it is IMPORTANT to the story! Now, REVIEW (that is, if you are feeling better than Jem right now).**


	38. Making Aquaintance

**Hello again! Thanks reviewers! Today I really have no clue what to write so I am going to get to it! Here's the update:**

**Chapter 38: Making Acquaintance**

Jack sat by Jem's bed staring at Jeremiah worriedly as the doctor examined him. He couldn't help but review how the afternoon had gone; one minute, Jem was winning the poker game, the next minute, Jem had thrown up and passed out on the floor.

Jem moaned and tried to sit up. The doctor eased him back into his relaxed, horizontal position and gave a couple soft assurances. Jack just stared on with concern.

The doctor stood up from his crouched position and glanced at Jem before turning to Jack. "Seems there's something going around the jail… your friends got it. I am not going to gloss over the truth… he's got a bad case of it." Jack sighed at the doctor's words. "Do you know if he has anyone who is to be notified? Any friends? Relatives?"

"There is one… 'is sister, Adelaide Fields. He's always talking about 'er - she lives in Windsor." Jack sighed.

The doctor nodded and scribbled the information in a small notebook. He exited the cell and gave his orders to one of the guards about Jem's medication and other needs. Jack listened carefully just to make sure that the guard did everything correctly - as the doctor ordered.

A sigh escaped Jem, causing Jack to turn his attention back to his friend. Jem smiled when he noticed that he had the Dodger's full attention.

"Don't stare at me like that!" Jem said, still smiling. He lifted his right hand up to his forehead and rubbed his right temple. "I just wish that you and the room would quite spinning around so!"

"Jem…," Jack squatted down so that he was at eye-level with Jem, "I wish I was in your place… I-"

"Oh, no you don't!" Jem said with a light laugh. "It isn't quite as much fun as it looks!"

"Well… what I mean is…," Jack struggled to find the right words.

Jem rested his right hand on Jack's left arm. "I know what you mean… you don't have to say it."

"But…," Jack interjected.

"I know that I'm your friend! Practically family, right? Like we're brothers." Jem closed his eyes as a small spasm of pain shot through him. All the talking he was doing was losing him more energy than he expected; beads of sweat were again forming on his forehead.

Jack took Jem's hand and squeezed it before resting it back next to Jem. "Don't exhaust yourself," he reprimanded. "You need your strength."

----

Over the week, Jem's illness seemed to remain the same as when it had first struck its blow; temperature 103 degrees Fahrenheit, heart rate normal and steady, and sense of humor as in tact as ever.

Jack did his best to entertain Jem without exhausting him, and Jem did his best to keep his germs "on the insides so that it wouldn't spread."

On the third day of Jem's illness, the guards entered their cell and attempted to move Jack to another cell. Of course, the Dodger would have none of it; he kicked, protested, and clung to the cell bars. The guards quickly gave it up as a "lost cause" and decided that the Dodger's horrible temper must be caused by a fever already rising within his own body.

It was exactly seven days later that a long-awaited guest arrived.

There was a clang and the Dodger opened his eyes. The cell door was being opened and someone holding a candle was entering. Jack stood up slowly causing the newcomer to breathe in sharply.

"Hello," came a slightly uneasy voice out of the darkness.

"'Ello," Jack responded calmly.

There was a moment in which both of them hesitated, and then the newcomer spoke. "I'm Adelaide… Adelaide Fields… Jem's sister."

Jack nodded and stepped closer to her so that they could get a good look at each other. Jack noted all the similarities he saw between Adelaide and her brother. _Same hair color, only 'er's is curly… same smile…_

His thoughts were interrupted by a look of surprise that had crossed Adelaide's face.

"What?" Jack asked quizzically.

"Oh, nothing!" she smiled and her cheeks seemed to grow crimson in the candlelight.

"No, really, what?" Jack asked again.

"Well, it's just… oh, I don't know… umm…," she bit her lip nervously, "I just realized that I didn't give you any warning or time for you to put on some of your clothes. I mean, you in your night things… I'm sorry, very inappropriate of me… completely my fault…" She turned around and redirected her attention to the sleeping Jem.

Jack laughed to himself and turned to go make himself presentable. He continued to watch Adelaide as she bent over her brother. The candle she was holding cast a good bit of light, and Jack found himself staring at her dress; it was simple in style, but nonetheless tastefully so – not a bit like what he was used to. All the ladies he knew wore low-cut, showy, and (usually) slightly dirty dresses. She carried herself with the air of someone who knew how to act properly, but in a non-stuffy way much unlike the higher-class citizens that the Dodger had stolen from before his imprisonment.

She turned to face the now fully dressed Jack.

"How has he been? Has he improved at all? Worsened?" she stared worriedly at Jack.

"He's been practic'lly th' same all week; no improvement or turns for th' worse," Jack replied honestly. He paused and then continued. "I didn't introduce m'self before, did I? I'm… Jack," he said; something inside him had urged him to use the name he usually hated.

"Jack," she repeated, staring at him for a moment. "Very nice to meet you." She gave him a steady look and then turned back to Jem and brushed some stray hair off his forehead.

Jack stared mesmerized. He didn't know if it was the glow of the candle or the way Adelaide acted that amazed him so. He shook his head and turned to look back into the darkness that shrouded his bed.

**Hmm… REVIEW!!!**


	39. The Most Beautiful Story

**Hello reviewers! I have felt sooooo busy (even though I am not!)… I was hoping to complete the story during the Christmas break (not because I am tired of it, but because I have other things I need to be doing… and I want to start on my next story!)… probably won't though. Well, here's my contribution to the story I started that doesn't seem to want to end that I keep writing on until I die. Here you go:**

**Chapter 39: The Most Beautiful Story**

The next morning, Jack woke to find Adelaide sitting in a wooden chair asleep after having spent much of the night watching her brother. Jack got up, stretched, and washed his face. Jem let out a small moan in his sleep. Jack glanced over at Adelaide to see if the moan had awoken her, but finding that it hadn't, he continued with his morning rituals.

He glanced at Jem's pocket watch, which was lying on a small table next to his bed. _Six __forty__-five…_ He laid the pocket watch back on its resting-place, and prepared Jem's medicine. The guards, being the complainers they were, had tired of giving medicine to all the ailing and, when the Dodger had requested, eagerly permitted Jack to handle his cellmate's medications.

Jack poured a spoonful of the prescribed liquid into a small cup of water. He stirred the mixture with the spoon, humming softly. After a moment, he walked over to Adelaide and laid his unoccupied hand on her arm.

"Adelaide," he said softly, close to her ear.

She stirred quickly, her body already aware of the fact that she was in a strange place. Her eyes opened and she stared at the Dodger.

"I was wond'ring if you might 'elp me give 'im his med'cine…," Jack motioned to Jem who was still asleep.

Adelaide nodded. She attempted to straighten her hair and clothing, and then joined Jack at Jem's bed.

Jack woke Jem using the same method he had used to wake Adelaide. Jem sighed in response and gripped Jack's hand before allowing his eyes to open. They immediately rested on his sister.

"Adelaide!" he said slightly wheezily. "When did you-" he paused to cough before continuing, "when did you arrive?"

"Last night," she said softly. "I didn't want to wake you – it was late… Now, Jack said that you have some medicine to take," she said in a cheerful tone.

Jem grimaced in response. "That stuff…," he pointed at the cup that Jack was holding, "it tastes horrible!"

Adelaide laughed lightly and Jack addressed her. "If you'll 'old 'im up in a sitting position, I'll 'old the cup for 'im."

Adelaide nodded and did as she was asked. Jack held the cup up to Jem's lips as he slowly drained it of its contents. Once the medicine was gone, Jem made a last face of displeasure and lay back down against the bed.

There was a loud clang as the cell door was opened. A guard entered and handed two plates of food to the Dodger. The guard then exited.

Jack laid the plates down on the table where Jem's pocket watch was also laid. He turned and addressed Adelaide. "If you want to… you can go out an' get something ta' eat. I'd be glad ta' share my food, but it ain't the safest thing ta' eat – nor the most ap'tizing." She gave a short smile and nodded.

"I'll be back once I've gotten something in town." She turned to Jem and, leaning over him, placed a kiss on his forehead. After bestowing a final smile on Jem, she motioned to the guards that she was ready to go. A guard stepped forward, opened the cell door, and, after locking the door behind them, escorted her down the passageway.

Jack turned and looked back down at Jem, who was smiling.

"She's nice," Jack commented.

Jem let out a laugh that quickly turned into a short coughing fit. When it was under control again, Jem spoke. "She's more than… nice! Of course… I know you… know that…," a devilish smile crossed his face, "You just don't… want to _admit_ that… she's the best woman you _ever_ saw!" Jem coughed a couple of times and then a sent knowing look at Jack.

Jack shook his head calmly, his features calm, but his cheeks a little rosy.

"See…" Jem coughed. "See! It's undeniable!"

"Either eat your food," he indicated the second plate, "or go back ta' sleep - you need your beauty sleep if you're gonna look anywhere near as good as your sister!"

----

When Adelaide returned, she was carrying a book and a covered basket. She set the basket down and removed a plate of food from it. She then handed the plate to Jack. He stared down at the portion of roast chicken, potato, and piece of pie that was on the plate in confusion.

"I thought that you might want a little something a little more tasteful than the food supplied for you here, so I bought that." She indicated the plate of food and smiled.

Jack hesitated for a moment. "Thank you," he said slowly.

"Your welcome." She smiled again and then turned to Jem. Sitting down in the wooden chair, she opened the book and set it on her lap.

"Jem," she said softly.

He stirred slowly and opened his eyes, smiling as they lighted on his sister.

"If you're not too tired, I'd be happy to read to you." She held up the book for him to see.

Jack glanced hopelessly at the cover; he knew there were words on it, but he never did learn how to read.

"I would be… delighted." Jem coughed a couple times and then gestured that she should start.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," she began.

Jack listened with interest. Her eyes flew over the words and her voice made them sound like poetry (not that he was a good judge poetry.) He pulled off a strip of the roast chicken and dropped it in his mouth. Reclining against the cell wall, he savored the food and story. Closing his eyes, he focused on the taste of the food and the sound of Adelaide's voice.

----

Jack was suddenly jolted from his relaxed position; Adelaide had stopped reading! He opened his eyes and turned to look at her.

She smiled apologetically. "Did I wake you? Jem fell asleep and I didn't really see a point in continuing-"

"I wasn't asleep," Jack said, turning a little red. "I closed m' eyes to listen better to th' story… you really 'ave a lovely voice." He turned redder as he realized that he had spoken the last part aloud. Jack turned to look at the empty plate lying beside him.

"Oh, well, thank you. I'm sorry, I honestly thought you were asleep – you looked so relaxed."

Jack just shrugged.

"If you want me to, and only if you really want me to… I could continue…"

"Please… I promise I ain't gonna fall asleep."

Smiling, she picked the book back up and resumed reading; Jack staring at her all the while, listening intently.

**Hmm… R-E-V-I-E-W!**


	40. Aother Day In Jail

**Disclaimer: I am not Charles Dickens. He or someone else owns Oliver Twist (not me). I own the characters: Guinevere, Thaddeus, Sam, Johnny, Annabel, Chelsea, and Adelaide. I also own the particular story line to this story.**

**Hello! This story is brought to you in part by Elaine Dawkins, Red-Cherry-Flowers, Broken Amethyst, Protego Totalum, Weasley Is Our Queen, SirNotAppearingInThisShow, ASGT and Kat Maximoff, and Silent as a Bomb! (I apologize if I missed anyone – last time I did "the list of reviewers", I forgot my sister!) On with the show!**

**Chapter 40: Another Day In Jail**

Over the next two weeks, Adelaide spent many of her evening hours with Jem and Jack. She would settle down with the book A Tale of Two Cities and read until Jem fell asleep or (more commonly) until her voice was hoarse.

When Adelaide had first begun to read to them, Jack had stayed at the opposite side of the room. Over time, he worked his way closer and closer to Adelaide. Eventually, he took to standing behind her so that he could look over her shoulder at the printed words on the book's pages. Once she realized what he was doing, she offered that he should sit next to him so that as she read, he could see the words. At first Jack had nervously declined the offer, but, after much insisting on Adelaide's part, he sat next to her. She held the book where they could both see it easily and he began to pick up on simple words like "the", "and", and names of people that were often repeated.

Jack was continually awed as he saw the power of family working on Jem sick body. The more Adelaide came around, the more Jem seemed to be like himself and the less he coughed. Jack sometimes took to wondering what it would be like to have at least one family member that cared that much about him. He quickly began to avoid thoughts of his own family, discounting them as something that would never be – just another thing to get his hopes up only to be let down. He didn't share his thoughts with anyone. On more than one occasion, he had started to mention it to Adelaide, but (like most anything he tried to say to her) it never sounded right and he would quickly change the subject to something simpler. Jack knew that Adelaide considered herself his friend (rightfully so), but there was something about her that seemed to complicate everything in his head. Nevertheless, they continued to grow closer. She began to stay later and later each evening just to be with Jack. They would read together, talk, and sometimes play cards.

Jack and Adelaide had spent another long evening together. After having read Jem to sleep, Adelaide suggested that they play a few games of Put. Over the night the intensity rose as Adelaide and Jack alternately won games. Lost in the light banter and the card game, it was quite a while before anyone noticed the lateness of the hour.

"Well, I really should be going." Adelaide announced at the end of a game in which Jack had won. She stood up slowly, still looking at Jack, who stood up, too.

"Shame you 'ave ta' go." Jack always said this and every time he meant it.

Adelaide smiled and looked down at a timepiece that was pinned to the front of her dress. "My! It's late! Seems the more often I come, the longer I stay. If I keep this up, I'll be heading from here and straight to work."

Jack gave a non-committal laugh and secretly wished that what she said was true.

Adelaide moved towards the cell door.

"Adelaide," Jack said suddenly, stopping her.

"Yes?" She turned back to face him again.

He walked over to her, closing the four-foot gap separating them. "I… I don't really… um… know 'ow ta' say… umm…" His arms reached somewhat awkwardly for her. His hands cupped her shoulders gently and he leaned towards her, placing a kiss slowly on her left cheek.

There was a yell and a clang as two of the guards opened the cell door and approached them. Roughly grabbing the Dodger and pulling him off Adelaide, the taller guard began to reprimand him for "encroaching himself upon a ladies physical person" as he did.

The shorter guard quickly grabbed one of Adelaide's arms and began to escort her out of the cell. She opened her mouth to speak, but the guard interrupted her with an apology that seemed to center on "the misbehavior of villains like the Artful Dodger."

Jack was left quietly struggling with the other guard. Finally giving up, he relaxed his body and listened to the lecture given by the guard. Once the speech was concluded, the Dodger attempted to express his opinion.

"I don't know what your problem is! I was jus-"

"That's enough out of you, young villain!" The guard exited and locked the door behind him before regaining his post.

The Dodger glared angrily around at the cell; he hated everything about it – the guards that didn't allow you to do anything, how secluded it was, the boring and grimy walls… His eyes lighted on Jem causing him to momentarily smile. Slowly, though, his smile fell and his heart began to race. Jem had not stirred at any of the commotion caused by him and the guard. Jack ran wildly over to him and kneeled down beside him, panicking. He felt for breathing, tried to see the rise and fall of Jem's chest, and checked for his pulse. Unlike Jack's racing heart, Jem's was unmoved. Not a beat sounded. Nothing.

A noise reverberated through the halls, unnoticed by Jack. The guards ran towards the tumult that was a good pace away from the cell that Jack and Jem occupied.

Jacks eyes filled with tears and he collapsed onto Jem, hugging him and sobbing helplessly. He lied there for a long time. The guards were elsewhere; they didn't know what had happened. Jack's tears stained the front of Jem's shirt and he clumsily mumbled words expressing his fondness. Memories of good times with Jem flooded Jack's mind and more tears leaked out from under his tightly shut eyelids. He got up stiffly and walked over to the cell door.

"Hey," he called softly. "Hey!" his voice cracked and he began to sob hopelessly at the cell door, clinging to the bars.

One guard broke away from the group that had gathered further down the passageway. He walked slowly towards the cell from which the yell had exhibited, but as he neared, his pace quickened to a run. By the time the rather overweight guard reached Jack, he was puffing from the exertion. He stared down at the Artful Dodger who was clinging to the cell bars, sobbing. The guard reached into his pocket and removed a ring of keys. Fishing through them, he located the correct one and inserted it into the lock. Jack scooted to his left to get out of the way of the door and the guard entered. Jack pointed towards Jem with a shaking finger.

The guard slowly approached the bed and, when his eyes lighted on the occupant, sighed heavily. Turning back to Jack, he patted his shoulder a couple times hoping to comfort him. Unexpectedly the Dodger lunged at the guard, pinning him to the floor.

"It's all your fault!" the Dodger whispered venomously. "If he wasn't stuck in 'ere, he wouldn't 'ave gotten sick in th' first place! YOU kept 'im in 'ere!" He raised his fist preparing a blow that was aimed at the guard's nose when three other guards, who had been attracted by the disturbance, grabbed the Dodger and lifted him off the prostrate guard.

The Dodger struggled for a moment and then went limp, shaking with grief.

**Sorry about the depressing ending:( I didn't expect Jem to go tonight… it just happened. Review if you can (I promise the story will end happily – as I have said before, I hate tragedies! Notice that the word "tragedies" ends with "dies") REVIEW!**


	41. Free At Last

**Hello again! Updating for the forty-first time! Thanks to all you readers (I don't thank you enough) and reviewers! Here's the newest story jazz:**

**Chapter 41: Free At Last**

Adelaide walked softly through the jail passageway. She tried not to glance right or left; each side held a view of the imprisoned… the lonely… the tortured. She hated prisons – people weren't meant to be in such places. Even now, she realized that death was a kind thing for those who were doomed to dwell in such places. She had been determined to free Jem. Scrimping and saving almost every cent she received at work, but there never was enough. However, Jem had at last been set free; she had set out to do it, but the Lord had been merciful first. A tear slid down her face and she held her lips tightly together with determination. She had cried long enough; it was time to move on. Jem was safe and happy… she _knew_ he was happy. She smiled momentarily before her face fell again. There were still so many people doomed to remain in these cells until their time was served or death took them. Her heart ached as her eyes drifted to a cell on her right. She paused to stare at an old man, around seventy-years-old, who was lying on a cot. His worn clothing exposed his thin arms; it was almost as though she could see every part in his body – bones, blood vessels, shriveled muscles – through his pale almost transparent skin. She shivered and decidedly stared straight ahead again. She walked on, quicker than before. She sighed as she reached the cell she had visited so many times. She stopped at the bars and stared in at the slumbering occupant, tears of sorrow still staining his cheeks.

The guard, having recognized her, approached holding out the key.

"No!" she said softly. "Don't wake him! I just want to look at him."

The guard stared at her for a moment, then turned and walked back to his post.

Adelaide stared in at Jack. He was breathing softly, sleep momentarily giving him the peace he needed. Adelaide felt tears run down her face.

_Yes,_ she thought, _I am going to do it - for Jem. He would want it that way._

Jack sighed and turned in his sleep, relaxing into his new position. She leaned in towards the bars. She paused, then slowly reached one arm through the bars until it touched Jack's hair. She slowly stroked his dark hair. A smile little by little crossed her face. Jack groaned, causing Adelaide to jump and pull her hand back. She was relieved to find that he was still asleep. She blushed as she glanced over at the unmoved guard. She turned back to Jack and again proceeded to stroke his hair. Jack suddenly reached up and gripped her arm tightly, lethargy still prevalent. She smiled as she felt his warm grip slowly loosen and cease.

"I love you," she whispered as she gave his hair one final stroke. Smiling, Adelaide turned and headed back down the long passageway, promising herself she would be back.

----

Adelaide made her way determinedly back down the passage. It had been three days since she had last visited Jack. She silently prayed that he would not be angry that she had distanced herself from him.

As she approached, the guard prepared to let her in. Adelaide reached out a hand to stop him from inserting the key into its lock. "I don't need in yet," she explained and then walked over to the wall of bars. "Jack?" she said softly.

He slowly got off the bed and walked over to her.

"Jack, how are you doing?"

"I should be th' one asking you 'at," he answered giving her a grim smile.

"I'm alright." She took his hand in hers. "It must be hard for you… I know that you and Jem were good friends." Her eyes twinkled with moisture and her voice wavered a little.

Jack gently stroked the palm of her hand with his fingers and then gripped it softly. "I really miss Jem…" he sighed. His voice shook, but his eyes were dry; all his tears were spent.

"I want you to be there for the funeral," she said boldly. "Jem would want you to be there and I agree with him."

Jack stared back at her in an almost pitying manner. "They ain't gonna 'low me out – I ain't exac'ly on the best o' terms with everyone 'ere." He gave a slightly disgusted look at the guard standing a few feet away.

Adelaide smiled slowly. "Trust me; they'll let you come to the funeral."

Jack shook his head sadly and stared at his feet, wishing he could make her understand. Adelaide reached between the bars and gently took his chin in her hand and guided his face up until he was gazing into her eyes.

"I have a small surprise," she said calmly a smile still playing across her face. Opening her clutch purse, Adelaide pulled out a folded paper and handed it to Jack. He took it and stared uncomprehendingly at the words printed on its white surface. Slowly, he picked out several words that he knew, then glanced up at Adelaide, still perplexed.

"It says 'Order for release of the prisoner known as the Artful Dodger'," she pointed to each word as she read it to him.

"Order for release?" he repeated gaping at her.

"Order for _your_ release - you're going home!"

"Home," he repeated. A distant look crossed his face. "Home." He slowly redirected his attention back to her. "How… this ain't pos'ble… I-"

"I have been saving my earnings to bail out Jem. This past week I got the last paycheck I needed. Now, I get the pleasure of using the money to free you!" She smiled.

"I don't deserve this. I-"

"Jack," she cut in, "you deserve this more than anyone. You were there for Jem - all through his health and his illness. And you were there for me," her eyes filled with unshed tears.

Jack reached one hand up through the bars and stroked her cheek gently.

"Jack," she said softly. Their lips met, their faces pressed against the bars on either side of them. A tear of joy leaked out from under one of Jack's closed eyes and slowly rolled down his face and onto Adelaide's. He pulled away gently and stared speechlessly at her.

Adelaide turned and approached the guard. Brandishing the document before him. He took it, skimmed the contents, and smiled. Quickly locating the appropriate key out of the numerous ones on a large metal ring, he walked to the cell door, unlocked it, and opened it wide.

Jack stared in shock at the open space before him. He took one slow step towards it, then walked briskly over to Adelaide. Throwing his arms around her, he hugged her tightly. "Oh, Adelaide! Thank you!"

She hugged him back. Tears of joy streamed down their faces. Finally, Jack was free.

**I don't know how long I have been waiting for that to happen! (Around ten chapters, I think!) Still more to come! Pleeeeeeease REVIEW!**


	42. Back Together

**Hey! I want to say thanks to all my reviewers – Elaine Dawkins, Broken Amethyst, Red-Cherry-Flowers, Protego Totalum, ASGT and Kat Maximoff, Silent as a Bomb, SirNotAppearingInThisShow, and Weasley Is Our Queen (I REALLY hope I didn't miss anybody!) – Thanks guys! Here's the next (final?) chapter:**

**Chapter 42: Back Together**

Jack practically ran outside. The moment he exited the tall, iron gates, he took a deep breath of the smoggy city air and laughed.

"It ain't changed a bit! Still just as foggy and just as dirty!" He twirled where he stood, attempting to get a look at everything around him. Suddenly an image of four people came into his head - Fagin, Nancy, Charley, and Guinevere. His face fell. What if things weren't the same there? What if the only home he had ever loved had changed? He bit his lip and stared in the direction of Fagin's.

Adelaide looked at him with concern. "Something the matter?"

"No," he said slowly. "No," his voice grew stronger, "Nothings th' matter." He turned and smiled at her. "Wanna meet m' fam'ly?"

"Why not," Adelaide responded confidently, knowing full well that she was about to be led to the home of crooks.

Jack held his arm out and she looped hers through it. Jack smiled as he guided, what was in his mind, the loveliest lady in all of London, England.

People stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at, what was to them, the oddest couple ever – a young crook, easily recognized by his top hat and greatcoat, known as the Artful Dodger and a mature, respectable lady, known by some to be a seamstress at a local clothing shop; both having just exited the nearby prison.

Adelaide smiled proudly under the public's judgmental gaze. Jack, after glancing at Adelaide to see how she was reacting to the attention, held his chin up high and strutted past a few opera-goers that he was sure he had stolen from at least once. As the couple walked past a lady of about thirty with red hair, Jack Dawkins tipped his hat in recognition and even smiled. The lady let out a small cry of "Dodger?!" and stared after him in shock. Jack smiled knowing full well that it wouldn't be long before Nancy visited Fagin's.

They now entered an alleyway that the Artful Dodger had long dreamed of, never really expecting to see it again. His pace quickened. He thought of Charley, Guinevere, and Fagin. Putting his worries aside, he allowed himself to become hopeful – something he rarely permitted. His eyes lighted on the building he once (and still did) call home. He walked up the steps then stopped when he reached the door, Adelaide still clinging onto his arm. He let his arms fall to his sides as he stared up at the building; the occupants inside still unaware of his presence right outside the door. He turned to Adelaide and smiled. He reached out and held both or her hands in his.

"Without your 'elp, I wouldn't be 'ere," Jack whispered. "Don't know 'ow I'm gonna make it up to you…"

"It's more than worth it to see you free and reunited with your family," Adelaide whispered back.

"I only 'ave one thing to complain 'bout," he continued, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "What if we stop spending time t'gether? I'd 'ate ta' never see you again…"

A smile spread across Adelaide's face. "I want you to pay very close attention to what I am about to say…" She leaned towards him and, holding his face firmly in her hands, applied her lips to his. He, in turn, wrapped his arms around her and they sunk deeper into the kiss.

The door behind Jack opened and a burst of laughter was let loose by Charley Bates as he stared at the scene before him.

"Fagin! It's Dodger!" Charley yelled, his eyes still fixed with fascination on the romantically entangled couple. "And he isn't alone!" he added as an afterthought before exploding with a long string of lung-exhausting laughs.

Jack and Adelaide broke apart at Charley's yells, both blushing furiously – neither of them had meant to make such a dramatic arrival. Jack couldn't help but smile as he looked at his old friend and work partner, Charley.

Charley leapt forward and, grabbing Jack's arm, pulled him into Fagin's. Jack, thinking quickly, held tight to Adelaide's arm, making sure that she was also led inside. Johnny, Chelsea, Sam, Annabel, Thaddeus, and four others that the Artful Dodger didn't recognize were already crowding the stairs. Fagin was at the top trying to make his way through the crowd.

"Dodger my dear!" he cried, peering over the heads of the children. He shoved Johnny and Annabel aside, trying to make room for himself. Once he finally reached the bottom he grinned proudly at the Dodger and held out his hand. Jack gripped and shook it.

"My dear!" Fagin proclaimed in shock, staring down at their grasped hands. "What a strong grip you have! Much unlike a pickpocket!"

Jack grinned sheepishly. "They 'ad me doing a bit o' work in pris'n – sledge'ammers an' all!"

A couple of the pickpockets sighed and shook their heads as though they had never heard of something so disagreeable.

"And who, Dodger my dear, is this?" Fagin asked as his eyes lighted on Adelaide who was holding Jack's other hand.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Charley spoke first, barely containing his mirth. "This is the girl that he was kissing when I opened the door!"

The Dodger glared at Charley as Adelaide's cheeks again turned bright crimson.

"Ah, she's a pretty thing, Dodger my dear!" Fagin commented, grinning at Adelaide with approval.

"Thank you!" Jack responded, knowing that in this house, it was a high compliment. He looked around the room, lit with many candles that were held by the pickpockets. A look of concern crossed his face. "Where's Guinevere?"

"Oh!" Charley put on a thoughtful look. "She's either over at Nancy and Bill's or is in town… I better go find her! She'll be de-lighted to see you!" He squeezed past the crowd and reached for the doorknob. As his fingers touched it, he turned and faced Jack. "Don't you go ANYWHERE while I'm gone," he said with an extremely serious expression.

"I won't, Charley," the Dodger replied with a nod. "I wouldn't think of it!" He smiled.

To everyone's surprise, Charley threw himself at the Dodger, hugging him tightly. Jack smiled and returned the embrace. After a moment, Charley let go, opened the door, and exited through it.

"Well, I suppose you're hungry!" Fagin addressed Jack. "Everyone upstairs!" Fagin cried at the group of pickpockets. They all made their way upstairs, Fagin talking almost nonstop to Jack. Annabel and Chelsea walked over to Adelaide, who had now been deserted, and began a little "girl talk."

Fagin prepared and cooked some sausages for the hungry arrivals.

"Here you go, my dear," he said kindly to Adelaide, extending a plate with two sausages on it.

"Oh!" she stared questioningly at the plate. Then, remembering her manners, she smiled and accepted the food. "Thank you very much!" she smiled.

"Ah, no problem, my dear!" Fagin responded and then returned to the other cooking sausages.

The door below them slammed. Charley and Guinevere came running up the stairs followed by Nancy who was clutching at her chest, breathing heavily, and mumbling about "young people."

Guinevere ran to the Dodger and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face.

"I never thought 'at you'd return!" she exclaimed loudly as she pulled away from him. As she stepped back, her eyes lighted on Adelaide who was attempting to slice one of the sausages with her fork. "Who are you?" Guinevere asked.

All the pickpockets burst out laughing and Jack grinned before attempting to respond. "She's a… umm… my… umm…"

"Wanna-be-fiance," Adelaide jumped in, smiling mischievously at Jack. An excited cheer erupted from the group and everyone began talking at once. Jack smiled in the midst of it all, wrapping one of his arms around Adelaide's shoulders. He was where he belonged. Everyone was happy. They were back together once again!

**All right, there you have it! Now, (I just have to ask) is that the end? I want responses! Did I miss anything important any of you readers wanted me to address? In my mind, this is the end, but if you think I missed anything, please let me know! I do have a "second ending" for the story (it is the "originally intended" ending). Now, though, I am questioning if I even want to write and post it! The "second ending" would take place right after chapter 23 and should only be one or two chapters long. Let me know what you think! Please! I need opinions! Thanks to all of you! And Happy (yes I know, BELATED) New Years!**


	43. The Second Ending

**Well, as I told at least one of my reviewers, I WAS going to wait for Broken Amethyst to review. It seems, though, that she is on a vacation (just m****y guess) and, therefore, is making me wait longer than I can stand to post! So now, I am posting it. In the end, what I decided to do was (1) write and post the "second ending" on and my homepage, (2) write a little "author's note" in which I will explain what all the characters went on to do (this will be posted on my homepage which you can reach from my profile) – it may take a few days before this is up, and (3) umm… there was something else I was intending to do… I don't remember though! Ah, well, point is that's what I have decided to do. Thanks everyone!**

_Note to the reader: The following chapters are meant to be read after "Chapter 23: She Loves Me… She Loves Me Not… She Loves Me…" It ends the story in a different way and makes the story shorter. This ending was the one I originally intended to write until my readers urged me to go in a new direction (which it turned out, I like better). Both chapters start the same way as the first versions, but end differently. I hope you enjoy this little add on of mine (personally though, I think the other ending is more dramatic, but that's probably just because I am used to it)! Thanks - Charlene Bates_

**Chapter 24: A Merry Christmas Eve (#2)**

As it neared Christmas, the Dodger and Charley became more and more distracted. Then, of course, there was the ever-present fact that there were absolutely no decorations up anywhere inside their apartment save the boys' bedroom which had a candy-cane or two lying around. Fagin had given a resounding "no" when asked if he was going to get them a Christmas tree, but somehow the boys managed to make it feel "Christmassy enough". They were constantly saving money to buy each other presents; each vowing that they were going to get the other the "best present ever".

When Christmas Eve finally came, the boys were extremely fidgety. They decided to distract themselves by decorating the house with whatever they found. Charley made a beautiful decoration that was composed of a string that hung across the room with handkerchiefs draped over it. The Dodger was kind enough to go out and find a slightly tragic, but nonetheless green, tree. They hung pickpocket finds such as watches and jewelry on it, and put a hat they had stolen on top.

Once they had finished, they both stood back and looked at their handy-work.

"It's rather pretty the way the jewelry and gold watches reflect the candlelight!" Charley giggled.

"I'd say it's a shame that no one 'sides us 'll see it…" the Dodger gave a smile, "What if we invited Nance and Guinevere over for dinner?"

"I'd say that Bill wouldn't allow it unless he could come, and Fagin wouldn't allow it 'cause he'd have to cook all the food!"

"Shame…," the Dodger shook his head sadly, "What if they just 'showed up' an' it happened ta' be dinnertime?"

"Might be able to work that out…," Charley said thoughtfully. He grinned slowly. "You want to invite them, or should I?"

"I'll do it." The Dodger strutted across the room and out the door.

Just as he was leaving, Fagin walked in and ducked under the hanging handkerchief-covered string.

"Where's the Dodger going, my dear?"

"What?! You didn't even compliment all our work!" Charley put on a hurt look. "I know that Jews don't exactly celebrate Christmas, but you've got to admit that we did wonders with the place!"

"Ah, yes of course, my dear. It does look lovely." He walked about the room, commenting on various decorations. After what he hoped was a suitable amount of praise, he repeated his question again, "Where'd the Dodger go off to, my dear?"

"He went to wish Bill, Nancy, and Guinevere a 'Merry Christmas'! Dodger and I got you a present even though you don't celebrate the holiday." Charley pointed at a package under the tree. "But, you are NOT supposed to open it until Christmas!" Charley put on a no-nonsense look and acted as though he was addressing a mischievous child.

"I have no intentions of doing any such thing, my dear." However, his eyes strayed to the package and a greedy look passed over his face, but he quickly replaced it with a good-natured smile. "I'll start on lunch then."

----

At around five-thirty that evening, Bill, Nancy, and Guinevere arrived. Nancy and Guinevere were both dressed in fancier dresses than usual. Guinevere had done her mousy-brown hair up so that a few curls hung daintily down around her neck and face. Bill hadn't seemed to make any effort to look better than usual and he even smelled like he my have had a drink or two before coming over.

Fagin surprised everyone by serving a leg of lamb even though he "didn't have a clue" that they all were coming over.

After dinner, the Dodger and Bill sat at the table playing various card games, Nancy and Fagin discussed a number of criminal issues, and Charley took Guinevere upstairs because he wanted to "show her something". When Charley announced this to her, the Dodger glanced up suspiciously, but continued to play cards with Bill.

Once they got upstairs and Charley had closed the door, he spoke, "I wanted to talk to you… privately."

Guinevere nodded and gazed at him waiting for him to continue.

Charley stared at a speck of dust on the floor for a moment, then, haltingly began his long prepared discourse. "I've been thinking a lot lately… a lot about you." He took a deep breath and let the air out slowly before continuing. "We clicked practically the moment we met! Since then we've laughed and joked and had a lot of good times…" He paused in his speech as a particularly funny time they had spent together filled his mind. He burst into laughter and, hugging his middle, proceeded to relieve himself of his excess humor.

Guinevere smiled and allowed her shoulders to sag with amazement at her companion's current state of being. "What?" she asked, knowing well that there was no way Charley would be able to respond in his current state.

Charley shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He plopped down besides her, attempting to wipe the tears from his face even though they were being produced faster that he could dry them. Guinevere shook her head, laughing, and wrapped her arm around Charley's shoulders. At the contact Charley stiffened as he was reminded of the task at hand. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he attempted to get his emotions under control. Once he was able to talk without laughing, he continued on with what he had begun to say.

"You really have come to mean a lot to me-"

"Charley…" Guinevere cut in. She paused and bit her lip. "I think that you're a great friend and I-"

"_Friend_?" Charley interrupted quietly. "I was thinking," he spoke softly as he stared at his hands. "maybe you and I could be _more_ than friends. Like… girlfriend and boyfriend…," his voice faded off until he was silent.

Guinevere stared at him, pity in her eyes. "Charley… I just don't think 'at 'ould work… you an' me. I'm afraid 'at I see you as… well, nothin' more 'an a friend. If you must know, I really like _Dodge_."

Charley sighed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered close to Charley's ear.

"Even this won't change your mind?" he asked, immediately pressing his lips to hers.

Guinevere was abruptly reminded of the Dodger's hot lips against hers; her cheeks flushed. She felt Charley's hand against her face and was brought back to the present. Charley pulled away and looked at her. Guinevere stared for a moment at Charley who was trying to control his urge to ask "So?"

"'At was really nice Charley, but… I just don't feel _'at way_ 'bout you. I'm only telling you this so 'at you won't get 'urt later!" She stared imploringly at Charley.

"So it's Dodger you like, huh?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," Guinevere said, sure of herself.

"Well, he's really lucky," Charley smiled at her, promising himself that he would get over it. Even if he didn't get over it, he could always kill Dodger and marry Guinevere since she would then be a widow. No, he wouldn't do that!

"Thanks Charley." Guinevere smiled. "Shall we go back down to the party?" An apologetic smile crossed her face.

Charley grinned. "Might as well."

**Chapter 25: Christmas Day (#2)**

"Dodge…"

Someone was whispering into the Dodger's ear. He saw a lit match and then a lit candle.

"Dodge, pleeeaaase!" someone was tugging at his sheets.

The Artful Dodger turned over and mumbled something.

"DODGER!" Charley repeated loudly into his ear.

Jack jumped up immediately and decided that the best way to start the morning would be to strangle Charley.

Charley pushed the sleepy Dodger off of him and started looking for something to defend himself with. Eyeing the present that he had bought for the Dodger, he held it in front of him like a peace offering.

The Dodger just stood there and stared at him confusedly through one eye. He finally spoke, "Charley… what are you doin'?" He searched through his overcoat, which was lying on the floor. Finding his pocket-watch, he moaned. "Charley! It's three thirty-six in the morning!"

"Yes… but it's Christmas!"

The Dodger stared at Charley in disbelief. "I'm sorry," he shook his head, "but 'Christmas' in _my_ mind don't start 'till nine-thirty!"

"Nine-thirty!" Charley moaned. "But you usually wake up at seven-thirty!"

"Well, today's a hol'day so wake-up time changes to nine-thirty!"

"But," Charley put on a hurt look, "don't you want to open the present I got you?"

The Dodger's strong-willedness momentarily crumbled, but then his resolve hardened as he thought. "Charley… you only want me ta' open _my_ gift… so's you can open _your_ gift!"

Charley looked guiltily down at his feet. The Dodger glanced at Charley, walked over to his bed, and once again settled underneath its warm covers. Back in his comfy bed, he quickly fell back into dreamland.

Charley sighed, shook his head, and climbed back into his own bed.

----

At eight o' clock, the Dodger was awakened by the sound of laughter downstairs. He groaned and sat up in bed. He heard Guinevere's voice, then Nancy's, then Charley's, Nancy's again, then Fagin's. There was another burst of laughter from the company below.

The Dodger stood up and walked over to his clothing. Slowly he lifted one leg and inserted it into a pants leg. He paused to yawn, then put his other leg into unoccupied pants leg. However, upon pulling them up, he found that the back of the pants was at his front and the front of the pants was at his back. He grunted angrily and, after pulling the pants off, again attempted to put them on.

After about five minutes, he was completely attired. The Dodger walked downstairs and entered the kitchen. There was a chorus of "Merry Christmas" from Guinevere, Charley, and Nancy. He responded with a nod and then entered the privy, locking the door behind him.

"He's such a morning person!" Charley said brightly, causing everyone to laugh.

Once the Dodger re-entered the kitchen, he smiled at Fagin, Charley, Guinevere, and Nancy as if seeing them for the first time that day. Fagin passed him a cup of hot tea. The Dodger accepted it gratefully and took a large sip. After a moment with the hot liquid, he lifted his face away from the cup, smiled up at the group of people and spoke.

"Merry Christmas everyone!"

Guinevere met Charley's eyes before rolling hers, smiled, and responded. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Dodger!"

Nancy sighed. "Well, I better get back home – Bill's going to be wanting his breakfast hot and ready when he wakes up. 'Bye Fagin, Charley, Dodger!"

"Goodbye!" they chorused.

"Well, my dears, I, too, have some business I must attend to. Here's your breakfast Dodger." He placed a plate of pancakes in front of his accomplice. "I should be back by nine! So long, my dears!" Placing his hat on his head, he made his way out the door and down the stairs.

Charley grinned. "That means that it's officially time for PRESENTS!" He ran over to the Christmas tree and plopped down next to the one he knew was labeled with his name.

"Come on, Dodge!" Guinevere encouraged, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of his seat.

"All right!" he laughed. After grabbing his plate of pancakes, he joined them on the floor.

Charley rubbed his hands together excitedly, reminiscent of Fagin's mannerisms. Noting this odd behavior, he laughed; Guinevere joined in and Dodger stared in bewilderment.

"He's still half asleep!" Charley commented, a smile still spread across his face.

"Let's get started, then. Let's see… ladies first," he said on a sudden inspiration. He withdrew a small box with a ribbon tied around it from the recesses of his coat and handed it to Guinevere. She grinned at him. After untying the ribbon, she lifted the lid, revealing a note that was resting on top of something wrapped in tissue paper. She lifted up the note and read it to herself.

When I saw this, it made me think of you. Hope you find a good use for it! (Wink, wink) Love, Charley 

She smiled excitedly up at Charley. Pulling back the tissue paper revealed some mistletoe. She smiled and stared at it for a moment. Words out of Charlie's note reverberated in her head, _Hope you find a good use for it! (Wink, wink)_

She regained her composure and smiled conspiratorially at Charley, who nodded and smiled knowingly back at her. Lifting up the mistletoe to where she was holding it above her head, she turned from Charley and looked invitingly at the Dodger. He looked back at her in disbelief as she leaned towards him and pushed her lips against his. His eyes widened and then shut tightly. Comprehension dawned on him – Guinevere _liked_ him! He wrapped his arms around her and relished the kiss. After about half a minute, they parted and Dodger looked at Charley to see what his reaction was. To his surprise, Charley was smiling with pleasure. Dodger glanced nervously at Guinevere, who was staring intently at him. Dodger looked from Charley to Guinevere and then back to Charley.

"Go ahead!" Charley said grinning. Grabbing a present, he proceeded to open it with excited ferocity.

Guinevere, taking Charley's remark very literally, thrust herself into Dodger's arms and pressed her lips against his again, the Artful Dodger returning the attention zealously.

THE END

**See what I mean? It's a little difficult to look at it as a DodgerXGuinevere now that we are all used to CharleyXGuinevere! I'm glad that you readers commented that you thought Charley should get Guinevere! I like the CharleyXGuinevere/DodgerXAdelaide ending best! Hope you liked this one anyway! Yeah, I know, it could have gone on longer, but you know what happened last time I decided it should continue? It turned into a 42 chapter diddy with a second ending! Lol. Thanks for all you guys' support!**


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